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RAIN OF FIRE 



V. J. C SOLOMON 














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ST. PIERRE'S RAIN OF FIRE 



BY 

REV. jfcf SOLOMON, 

Author of "Loyalty to God," " The Bugle Blast," Etc. 



Thou art my strong refuge. — Bible. 



ATXA1STA, GA.: 
The Franklin Printing and Publishing 
Geo, W Harrison, State Printer, Manager. 
1903. 



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Copyrighted, 1903, 
By Rev. J. C. Solomon. 



DEDICATED 

•.to HIS MOST FAITHFUL FRIEND 

R. C. JESTER 

BY THE AUTHOR. 



PREFACE. 



So many and so sweet were the words of commendation 
of my last book, "The Bugle Blast/' I venture to send forth 
these addresses with a trembling hope, yet with sincere 
desire that the Holy Spirit may use them in the dissemi- 
nation of light along the world's dark shores, and in the 
comforting of many troubled, bleeding hearts. Wherever 
they have been delivered over the country the Master's 
blessings have attended them. And now as they go out in 
this more permanent form, I ask the patience and charity 
of the public. 

If, dear reader, in the perusal of these pages you should 
find an occasional bit of gold, or gather a tiny pearl, or 
grasp a struggling sunbeam, or hear the bird of hope sing 
a gladder note in your heart, I shall count myself most 
happy, and ascribe unto Him all praise for such sweet 
manifestations of love and mercy. 

J. C. S. 



FOREWORD. 



No library is complete without Christian literature, and 
no Christian literature is satisfactory which has no place 
for a volume of sermons. The ideal sermon is the gospel, 
plus personality. It is the old truth vitalized by the warm 
blood of one who has experienced its power in his own 
heart. Whatever may be its limitations in other respects, 
the real sermon, because it exalts Jesus Christ as the 
world's Savior, possesses intrinsic value which all wise men 
recognize. 

Many of Christ's people, on account of old age, infirmi- 
ties and other causes, are denied the priviliges of public 
worship in church. On that account, they seldom hear 
sermons, and naturally need a book containing them, that 
they may read at home. This shut-in class of disciples in- 
cludes many of the choicest spirits of the kingdom of God 
on earth. A present of such a volume as this to one of 
this kind will be timely and helpful. 

All Sunday-schools should be equipped with libraries 
containing books of sermons. All preachers, whatever 
their attainments or experience, should occasionally read 
the discourses of other ministers of the gospel. In a word s 
there is a steady demand for works of the character Rev. 
J. C. Solomon offers to the reading public. What to him 



b FOREWORD. 

has been a labor of love should be to others a spiritual 
blessing, quickening the conscience,, warming the heart, 
energizing the will, reforming the life and holding up be- 
fore it the loftiest ideals for daily imitation. 

Those who have the happiness to know the author will 
discover in these sermons the evangelical doctrine, the pic- 
torial style, the impassioned earnestness, the abundance 
and aptness of illustration, which mark his spoken dis- 
course. Not one of them will be dull reading. They are 
both evangelistic and edifying. Some of them are wholly 
unforgetable. If the reader will only allow them to pass 
by proper digestion and assimilation into his spiritual con- 
stitution, he will be forever afterwards a stronger ethical 
and religious force. 

The author, while pastor in Atlanta, was not only a 
successful minister among his own people, but cordially 
co-operated in all denominational and Christian work, and 
thereby became a factor in promoting the general good. 
His piety, patriotism and philanthropy have won for him 
■admirers and friends throughout the length and breadth 
of the State. May this volume, as it goes on its evangel- 
istic round, find them all and largely add to their number. 

W. W. Landrttm. 

Atlanta, Ga., February 21, 1903. 



CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER I. 
St. Pierre's Rain of Fire. (Bible Promise, p. 11) 12 

CHAPTER II. 
Waiting for the Lord. (Bible Promise, p. 25) 26 

CHAPTER III. 
•God's Manifest Presence a Guarantee Against Fear. 36 

CHAPTER IV. 
Halting at the Red Sea. (Bible Promise, p. 47) 48 

CHAPTER V. 
Shut Doors 60 

CHAPTER VI. 
'The Desperation of a Sinner 70 

CHAPTER VII. 
The Holiness of Joy. (Bible Promise, p. 81) 82 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Thronging and Touching 90 

CHAPTER IX. 
'The Blotting Out of Transgressions 104 

CHAPTER X. 
The Lord's Shut-ins : 116 



BIBLE PROMISE. 



"And the blood shall be to you for a token upon the houses 
where ye are : and when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and 
the plague shall not be upon you to destroy you,w 7 hen I smite the 
land of Egypt. " 



i-uj 



St. Pierre's Rain of Fire. 



Haste thee, escape thither. — Gen. 19: 22. 

Be not like the drunkard who staggering home one night saw 
his candle lit for him. " Two candles," said he, for his drunken- 
ness made him see double, u I will blow r out one," and as he blew 
it out, in a moment he was in the dark. Many a man sees double 
through the drunkenness of his sins; he has one life to sow his 
wild oats in, and then he half expects another in which to turn to 
God ; so like a fool, he blows out the only candle that he has, and 
in the dark he will have to lie down forever. Haste thee, traveler, 
thou hast but one sun, and after that sets thou wilt never reach 
thy home. God help thee to make haste now. — Spurgeon. 

Procrastination is the thief of time ; 
Year after year it steals till all are fled, 
And to the mercies of a moment leaves 
The vast concerns of an eternal scene. 

4 —Young 



(12) 



st. pi^erre's rain of fire. 1& 



Last Thursday morning one week ago, one of the most 
horrible tragedies the world ever looked upon was enacted 
on the little island of Martinique, not many hundred miles 
from Florida. As a result of the outbreak of Mt. Pelee* 
volcano about 30,000 persons lost their lives and 50,000 
others were left homeless. 

Thursday morning the city of St. Pierre was suddenly 
and most horribly destroyed by a whirlwind of fire. Even 
in ten minutes this ancient and most beautiful city was- 
laid waste — a pile of black smouldering ruins. 

For fifty years people have visited and admired Mt. 
Pelee and children have sported at its base and about its 
rugged sides, and picnickers have bathed in the beautiful 
kke resting so quietly in this dreamlike crater. 

St. Pierre, to be sure, was a seaport city settled largely 
by the French. It contained many thousands of people, 
and doubtless from its beautiful situation and apparently 
safe condition these poor doomed victims felt, from a 
worldly standpoint, as happy and secure as other mortals 
in this old reeling world of ours. The blue sky smiled- 
upon them from above ; the blue waves of the sea laughed 
ground the shores of Martinique. 

Business was going on ; commerce was white with pros- 
perity. Volumes of black smoke were curling from 
great chimney stacks. The hum of machinery, the 
buzz of the saw and the ring of the hammer were 
heard on every side. Strong men were rushing to and 
fro making bread for their loved ones and laying 



14 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

up for a rainy day. Youths and maidens were marrying 
and given in marriage. Old men and women were 
sitting in the evening of life quietly waiting their last 
summons. Children were laughing and calling to ocean 
waves and gathering fair pebbles on the beach. Men and 
women might be seen here and there in their fishing 
smacks, while everywhere on land and sea tourists and 
pleasure-seekers were in evidence. The tall palms waived 
in that mellow air; the tropical birds sang their voluptu- 
ous melodies; the luxurious flowers breathed out their 
sweetest perfumes. Land and sea and sky had poured 
their wealth and charms into the lap of these easy-going 
people. God had been so good to this fair island of the 
West Indies. For long years His bounty. His patience, 
His providence had been stretched over this world-loving, 
pleasure-seeking, fair-dreaming French settlement. But 
they slept and dreamed, and mocked and dared. They 
waited and lingered long on their peaceful shores. They 
reared their children here, and here buried them out of 
their sight. 

The days, the months, the years, passed by. The skies 
were just as blue; the children's laughter was just as 
sweet; the island just as beautiful; and the sea murmured 
on as of yore. Why should the people be alarmed ? There 
are no unusual symptoms or signs of danger — not the 
slightest evidence of the impending calamity. Long ago 
the burning crater of old Mt. Pelee had sent forth her last 
red flame. The volcano was exhausted. The fires were 
all extinct. Where the sulphurous crater once held such 
high carnival a quiet lake offers pleasure to many bathers. 

But the repose of that long-time-quiet island is broken 



st. pierre's rain of FraK. lfr 

at last. On Wednesday morning deep-toned thunders, are 
heard — the island and the city tremble. All day long wild 
and awful sounds poured forth from Mt. Pelee, while the 
sea dashed furiously against the shore. An occasional flash 
of fire was seen from the crater. Men, women and chil- 
dren walked nervously through the city. Here and there 
groups of excited persons could be seen with glaring eyes 
and blanched faces, as they spoke in subdued and pitiful 
voices. The business rush was checked a bit; pleasure- 
seekers stood still in the streets, children were frightened 
and wild laughter died on pallid lips. Still the cannonad- 
ing continued and the fire grew redder and the seas roared 
most ominously. Old Mt. Pelee was preparing for the 
mighty onslaught — for one of the world's most awful, 
sickening tragedies. This fierce cannonading ceased about 
night when a shower of fine hot ashes began to fall. There 
was much confusion now among the people. General alarm 
seized the inhabitants. Consternation broke out every- 
where. We read nowhere of any one sleeping that night. 
Awful, black, sickening doom seemed to be settling down 
over the island. For days there had been mutterings. The 
volcano was grumbling. The seas were rolling higher and 
higher. The very earth seemed unsteady, but the inhabi- 
tants hoped for the best and waited, but hoping and wait- 
ing brought no relief. 

Although St. Pierre was on the verge of ruin, and every 
hour was hastening to her doom, and although the people 
were thoroughly alarmed, Gov. Mouttet, who had arrived 
the evening before, tried hard to allay the panic. He was 
like another foolish one who cried, "peace, peace/' when 
there was no peace — life when death was near — sunshine 



16 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

when tlie storm was breaking. All night long this down- 
pour of ashes fell from the hot throat of Mt. Pelee upon 
the horror-stricken and despairing St. Pierre. When 
morning broke, with a frightful roar and terrific discharges.* 
a cyclone of mud and steam swept down from the crater 
over the town and bay, sweeping all before it and destroy- 
ing the fleet of vessels at anchor off the shore. The moun- 
tains and hills were black with clouds. The volcano broke 
forth in wildest fury and shot its molten lava miles in the 
air. 

Blasting, scorching, consuming fire ran as a flaming 
river over the city. All alike fell before the awful charge 
of this fiery monster. Huge blocks of burning stone were 
tossed high in the air and went rolling through the streets. 
Mighty trees were uprooted and dashed into flood of 
waters by flood of flame. 

Great flocks of sea-galls hovered over thousands of dead 
bodies floating on the waves, while hungry sharks feasted 
upon human flesh. Horses would shake their heads and 
snort as they would catch a whiff of sulphurous fumes and 
then drop dead in their tracks. Men, women and children 
by the thousand would fall dead from the inhalation of 
these same poisonous gases, while other gases on fire 
would blister and bum to a crisp the prostrate bodies. 
Men fought like demons for their own lives and their loved 
ones. Mothers wailed and clung frantically to their babes, 
while helpless children writhed in agony till death gave 
them relief. 

The people rushed madly through the streets burying 
their faces in their hands or covering them with wet cloths 
to keep back the suffocating heat and smoke. Throughout 



st. pierre's rain of fire. 17 

the city piles of charred bodies could be seen in groups of 
five, ten, twenty, fifty, with their faces to the ground. 

On one single site were found 3,000 corpses piled in one 
great confused heap with marks of indescribable anguish. 
When the fire flooded the city they rushed to the Cathedral 
for safety and in this awful holocaust they perished to- 
gether there. 

Crowds of excited people were rushing up and down the 
shore ; great black volumes of smoke and poisonous gases 
were pouring upon them from the belching volcano; the 
air was dense with blackness, and the earth was streaming 
with fire. In desperation these fated creatures dashed on 
for their lives — first this way, then that, crying for help, 
but pleading in vain. When the awful fumes struck in 
their nostrils they fell "like flies in the flame." 

All parts of the city were struck simultaneously by fire. 
The whole land w r as overrun with flood of flame and the 
mountain and clouds dropped death down everywhere. 

Ocean like caldron, 
Shore was in flames. 

Seldom, if ever, has the world seen a more horrible trag- 
edy than this. Among the many pathetic stories told of 
the ruined cities, one is told by Samuel Thomas. 

"There was a woman burned to death while she held her 
baby in her arms — protecting it with her own body from 
the fire that filled the air. The child was alive long after 
its mother ceased to suffer." 

The wife of Thomas T. Prentiss, Consul of the United. 
States at St. Pierre, writes a letter to her sister, Miss Alice 
Toy, who lives at Melrose. Here is the letter in part : 



18 ST. pierre's rain of fire. 

"This morning the whole populace of the city is on the 
alert and every eye is directed toward Mt. Pelee, an ex- 
tinct volcano. Everybody is afraid that the volcano has 
taken it into its heart to burst forth and destroy the whole 
island. All the inhabitants are going up to see it. There 
is not a horse to be had on the island, those belonging to 
the natives being kept in readiness to leave at a moment's 
warning. Last Wednesday, which was April 23, I w T as in 
my room with little Christine and we heard three distinct 
shocks. They were so great that we supposed at first that 
there was some one at the door, and Christine went, but 
found no one there. The first report was very loud, but 
the second and third were so great that dishes were thrown 
from the shelves and the house was completely rocked. We 
can see Mt. Pelee from the rear windows of our house, and 
although it is fully four miles away, we can hear the roar 
and see the fire and lava issuing from it with terrific force. 

"The city is covered with ashes and clouds of smoke have 
been over our heads for the past five days. The smell of 
sulphur is so strong that horses on the streets stop and 
snort, and some of them are obliged to give up, drop in 
their harnesses and die from the suffocation. 

"Many of the people are obliged to wear wet handker- 
chiefs over their faces to protect them from the strong 
fumes of the sulphur. My husband assures me that there 
is no immediate danger, and when there is the least par- 
ticle of danger we will leave the place. There is an Ameri- 
can schooner, the R. J. Morse, in the harbor, and will re- 
main here for at least two weeks. If the volcano becomes 
very bad shall embark at once and go out to sea." 

How sad, how r touchingiy pitiful is this story, when it 



st Pierre's rain of fire. ly 

is further known that Consul Prentiss, his wife and their 
two precious daughters went down in the awful reign of 
fire. 

"Haste thee, escape thither" — this was the angel's com- 
mand to Lot. I believe it was the warning given to the 
Martiniquers of St. Pierre. I believe other great disas- 
ters have come after the voice of the Almighty has been 
disregarded. The inhabitants of Sodom went up in flames 
and smoke after God "had borne with them long. The 
treasures of the earthly city were dearer to them than the 
treasures of the Heavenly City. Sin was precious for a 
season, but they paid for it clearly in the flames. They 
saw no need of making haste. Why rush away from so 
beautiful a city and so rich % Why leave the splendid ac- 
cumulations of a lifetime % 2\o, we will remain and enjoy 
them with our children. But while they remained, fire 
came down from Heaven and Sodom perished. 

Eemember Lot's wife — her heart, too, was set on the city 
of the plains. It is not enough to start from Sodom, to 
turn and look to destruction, but to flee out of the city and 
be in haste. The words "flee," "haste," "fly," "quick/' 
"ready," "now," all are so many sign-boards to point us 
out of this wilderness world to the land of the sky, to the 
city of God. They are like silver springs in the desert. 
They are the clarion notes of coming peace and eternal 
refuge from sin and danger. Remember in the first cen- 
tury, the awful destruction of Pompeii and Herculaneum, 
subsequently the terrific flood of Holland, the dreadful 
fire in Boston, the burning of Chicago, the deluge in Texas 
on the 8th of May, 1902, the downfall of St, Pierre. I 
can not say — I dare not say — that these people were wicked 



20 ST. PIERRE'S RAIN OF FIRE. 

above all others, but with all my heart I believe that these 
outbreaks are the warnings of God. His awful providence 
to teach the world wholesome lessons to make men thought- 
ful and prayerful, and keep them on the alert. If we were 
not so stupid we might read the handwriting on the wall. 
Had we keener vision we could see the calamity coming. 
Were our sense of hearing not so dull we might listen and 
catch the mutterings of God's volcanic wrath and flee for 
our lives. The lightning flashed and the thunder roared 
a long time before Xoalr s ark floated on the waves and the 
wicked of earth went down in the flood. The destruction 
of Pompeii and Hercuianeum was not in a minute. These 
ancient cities perished only after warning. Oh, that men 
might be wise and catch the first sign of destruction and 
flee away. You remember the wreckage in the beautiful 
Conomaugh Valley in 1872 ? Those green mountain sides, 
those fertile valleys, that fair stream pouring out of the 
lakes, the prosperous and happy people. Oh, these were 
good days in dear old Johnstown, but civil engineers had 
frequently examined the great dam and pronounced it un- 
safe, but the people contended that it would last — no risk, 
no damage — and all went well for a while; but 
one day, when some were mourning and some were 
rejoicing, when some were asleep and some were 
reveling, a cloudburst fell upon the lake, the dam 
broke, and Johnstown perished. Time enough, time 
enough, has been the world's cry from the begin- 
ning, and to-day they are shouting it out while the 
destructive floods are rolling on. For five or six days and 
nights there were unmistakable signs of unrest in lit. 
Pelee. Mutterings and flashes of fire were heard and seen 



st. pierre's rain of fire. 21 

from the beautiful and peaceful crater, but the people 
spoke of this casually and were indifferent. It is an ex- 
tinct volcano. The fires have long since given out— it is 
only a temporary disturbance — no harm can come of it. 
There is no danger. And the fishermen still plied their 
boats and the merchants bought and sold, and the pleasure- 
seekers went on in their pursuits, and the children laughed 
in the streets, and young men and maidens were marrying 
and being given in mariage. But Mt. Pelee thundered and 
sent forth her flashes, and the earth rumbled and the sea 
rolled higher still. That awful Thursday morning came 
at last and swept, with fire, St. Pierre from the face of 
the earth forever. To those that perished, St. Pierre was 
most dear, and they hugged it to the death. Where the 
treasure is, there is the heart. Oh, that man would strike 
for the open sea and start in time. It is too late to flee 
when the city is on fire. When the first symptoms of de- 
struction are manifest, at the first warning of danger, fly. 
In the open sea of His love you will find a safe voyage. In 
His open arms there is a perfect shelter. 

There are two classes of hinderers of which I desire to 
speak for a moment. One is represented by Gov. Mouttet 
and the other by Consul Prentiss. Gov. Mouttet says, 
^ Quiet, people, quiet, no cause for alarm ; it will all be over 
soon." Little did he think that 30,000 souls were in the 
balance, and that in a few brief hours they would find their 
winding-sheets in flames of fire. So the Gov. Mouttets 
have ever tried to comfort poor troubled souls by crying 
"peace," when the sword was already drawn. It is not 
, fair to the perishing soul. It cheats him out of happiness 
and robs him of heaven at last. It is an awful thing to 



22 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

lie to men, but it is infinitely pathetic to quiet a soul over 
the red flames of hell, when with a wild cry of alarm you 
might land him in the harbor of safety, and point him to 
a heavenly home. Let no man trifle with his brother. The 
issues of life and of death are of transcendental import- 
ance. They are infinite. The soul will live forever in 
heaven or in hell. Let us deal honestly with it. Let us 
not mistake carnal satisfaction for spiritual safety. 

Men are already drunk on the devil's narcotics. They 
have fallen into a most hazardous stupor. War is on, and 
death is just ahead — cry aloud — ring the alarm, fire ! fire ! 
that's the word — let it sound till the sleeper is aroused, 
and seeing his danger, flee for his very life. But there was 
our own Consul Prentiss, a noble man, no doubt, but among 
the most awful and lamentable things I ever heard was tlio 
assurance given by the Consul to his wife. They were 
painfully pathetic, "My husband assures me that there 
is no immediate danger and when there is the least par- 
ticle of danger we will leave the place." Xot long after the 
Consul, his wife, and two lovely children perished in the 
fire. Thousand of sinners feel in their hearts that there is 
danger ahead. Some time there is a sense of uneasiness 
— restlessness, and a half resolution to flee to a safer place, 
but some one whispers Mt Pelee has not sent out enough 
ashes yet; let the flames get redder, let the fire shoot 
higher, when the thunders are louder and the molten lava 
begins to run down the mountain sides it is time enough. 
So men and women watch the volcanic eruptions of sin, 
they admire from a distance the looming mountains, as did 
Mrs. Prentiss and little Christine, from their back win- 
dows, four miles away, admire the grand and awful spec- 



st. Pierre's rain of fire. 23 

tacle of flaming Mt. Pelee. Souls are sleeping around the 
black crater of sin. They have caught a . whiff of the sul- 
phurous flames and drawn , back a , bit^ but no danger yet. 
They know they will have to flee some day. They know 
the black stream of death is coming. They, know the awful 
tragedy will break somewhere, some time, but not now. 
So they hope and wait arid linger, over the pitfall of death, 
till somebody cries, "The mountain is on fire — the city is 
burning up." Then it, is top late to flee. Every escape is 
cut off — nothing remains but doom. 

On Scotland's shore, where a tall bluff runs up very 
rugged and almost perpendicular, walked a man 
very leisurely one day; the tide there was most 
treacherous — hazardous in the extreme. As the man 
walked to and fro along the pebbly beach there 
appeared a man on the rocks above, who, seeing 
the fellow below, cried aloud, "This is a dangerous tide 
and it will soon be coming in; leave the beach." To this 
speech the stroller replied, "I know all about the tide," and 
so continued to stroll. The man on the rocks cried again, 
"The tide is coming — man, flee, flee for your life." Hg 
was laughed to scorn; the mocking "ha!" "ha!" rang our 
over the beating w T ave. At last he saw the danger; the 
black angry waves came dashing on ; rising higher and 
higher and the mountain pass was cut off, and the poor fel- 
low was doomed. He clutched the rock and cried for help 
— but it was too late. 

Just then the surging sea rolled over him and he 
dropped with a wail into the depths. Sinner, wait 
no longer — delay is dangerous. One night, one hour 
may cost you your life. The black waters of His 



24 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

wrath are surging all around you. The sea is 
angry; the tide is rolling high, and you must 
haste — flee for your life — find the mountain pass, it is 
plain and accessible to-night; you'll find it by the cross — 
you'll know it by the blood. Wait and your hopes will 
perish — wait and doom comes sure and soon. 

Mt. Pelee of sin is belching forth destruction. The red 
flames are leaping. The fine hot ashes like rain are falling. 
The sulphur of death has filled the air. Mt. Calvary 
thank God, is not far away; come to Calvary and so 
escape the doom of this flaming mount. The sea of God's 
love is before you. The ship of Zion is anchored there. 
Put out to sea ; delay not a moment and so be forever safe 
from this rain of fire. 



BIBLE PROMISE. 



" For a small moment have I forsaken thee ; but with great 
mercies will I gather thee. In a little wrath I hid my face from 
thee for a moment; but with everlasting kindness will I have 
mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy Kedeemer." 



(25) 



Waiting for the Lord. 



I waited patiently for the Lord. — Ps. 40: 1. 

Patience is more oft the exercise 
Of saints, the trial of their fortitude, 
Making them each his own deliverer, 
And victor over all 
That tyranny or fortune can inflict. 

— Milton. 

Patience ; accomplish thy labor ; accomplish thy work of affection ! 
Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike. 
Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made god- 
like, 
Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of 

heaven. 

— Longfellow. 



(26) 



WAITING FOK THE LCXRD. 27 



II. 



David had been in a low state, in some physical dis- 
temper or mental anguish or soul despondency. He evi- 
dently was in great distress and felt himself sinking away 
from God, but he dare not trust to himeslf, nor be in undue 
haste. ' He must patiently wait for God. He could afford 
,to wait, Xo man can afford to rush away from God. Xo 
one is warranted, it matters not how urgent his need be, 
or how desperately he may chafe under trial, in leaving 
his post till his Lord shall come. So in all our distresses 
and afflictions and bitterest trials, we will be wise to copy 
the Psalmist's example and wait for the Lord. Xo 
fretting, no worrying, no human device or wisdom can take 
the place of this patient waiting for God. 

God may seem slow, but He is not so slow as you. He 
is only waiting to be gracious. Lie would be entreated. 
You have some how called Him. In some sort of a way you 
have muttered out a prayer, but are you really trusting 
Him \ Do you trust your Lord however long He may 
tarry ? If he does not come right early you may believe 
He finds in you an unwillingness, an unreadiness to receive 
Him; or it may be that it is for His own glory that He 
tarries so long. His long tarrying may make your salva- 
tion all the more remarkable, and if you are a Christian 
His protracted absence may make Him all the dearer when 
He comes, and at the same time school you in the sweetest 
virtue — Christian patience. Think it not a strange thing 
nor hard if the Almighty fly not to your side in a moment 



28 st. Pierre's rain of fire. 

After all God is God, and in His own mysterious way He 
will bring a far greater blessing to you, my child, than 
ever you had hoped for. Then, had you ever thought how 
the Almighty waited on you ? How indifferent you were 
to Him ? How you disregarded Him and slighted Him 
and did despite to the Holy Spirit? Many, O, so many 
times you promised and then broke your vows and post- 
poned the day of your repenting. For five years God has 
waited on you; on some of you he has waited for ten years, 
on some for twenty-five. Some of you are old and gray 
and will soon be in your graves, and yet God is waiting 
still. How patient — O, the marvelous patience of God. 
Some years ago my sainted father and I stopped for the 
night at the home of a plain mountaineer up in White 
county. One of the sons of this old gentleman, our host, 
had long since left home, wandered away, never to come 
back. How tender, how pathetic, as the old gray-haired, 
sad-faced man told the story of his going away. Said the 
dear old father, "My boy is coming home to-morrow," and 
each day with pitiful, but hopeful speech the dear man 
would say, "my boy is coming home to-morrow." Some- 
thing like that is the patience of Christ. He is waiting for 
sinners to come home. Tell me, friend, how long will you 
keep Him waiting? And ye sons and daughters of the 
lord God Almighty, how long will you grieve your Father 
(and try His patience with your negligence and disobedi- 
ence ? But who is a patient man ? What do you mean by 
patience anyhow ? There lies a fellow out in the graveyard 
flat of his back — his heart still, his lips sealed ; would you 
call him a patient man ? Yet he doesn't move a muscle, 
doesn't-change expression, and hasn't since he has been a 



WAITING FOR THE LORD. 29 

citizen of that silent place. Yon would not say that he 
possessed any charms or grace at all. Certainly he would 
deserve no credit for not flying into a passion, nor for not 
at any time breaking the peace. No, a dead man knows 
nothing of patience, nor one under heavy narcotics. 

The creature who has no life, no strength, who feels no 
restraint, who knows naught of suffering and care surely 
can know but little of that rare and beautiful flower which 
men call patience. 

Then there must be back of Christian patience the heart- 
throb of real life, profound conviction, hope, sympathy, a 
loving restraint, a fellow feeling for another and sweet 
faith in God. 

An impulsive spirit can be patient, a man of the- 
meanest environments and of the sharpest cares. 

How or in what may we wait patiently for God ? 

1. In sickness. 

Some one has said that sickness is the greatest blessing 
in the world. Well, surely no one enjoys sickness. It is 
painful, distrissing, hindering, ofttimes impoverishing. 
Ah, no, we do not enjoy that, but God only knows what 
good comes to us from this lowly source. A man on his 
back not infrequently sees more of heaven than he ever 
saw on his feet — catches fresher, sweeter, fuller glimpses 
of Jesus's face. The proud man on his feet is the humblest 
man on his back. The rough and sour spirit becomes the 
smooth and sweet. The unfeeling and irascible soul be- 
comes the sympathetic and the patient. Sickness takes the 
starch out of a fellow, shows him his insignificance and his 
meanness, and develops the dear soul [who ministers at 
his bedside. And through it all, by His own strange mercy,. 



'30 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

the most Christ-like patience is cultivated. O, how Jesus 
does shine out in the sick-room,, and how close He does 
come to our hearts when we commune on our beds. What 
else can we do, what better can we do than wait for God 
in the sick-room, for He is there. 

The man in health who had no patience with wife or 
children or neighbor, but drove his business furiously with- 
out thought of prayer or patience, may be very quiet, very 
gentle on the bed. The impetuous, scolding mother learns 
beautiful lessons in the sick chamber, and takes as nevei 
before her little one to her heart. She has time for medi- 
tation, and patience grows sweetly there. How the sick- 
room cures the fretting, irritable child. Poor girl ! Every- 
thing goes wrong — nothing pleases. Home is dull. Life 
is a burden. She sees no patch of blue, all clouded, but in 
His providence God lays her low. How changed now. 
Her rough temper has been smoothed out and she is pa- 
tiently waiting for God. 

2. In trial. 

In all sorts of trials, from whatever source they spring, 
within or without, trials from good nature, trials from an 
ugly temper. In woods or on streets, alone or in crowds, 
whenever, however life's trials may assail we dare not for- 
get our God, nor chafe under the load. "Who can help lean 
on our Father when these sore trials rush upon us ? To 
whom can you go then ? Xo hand so soft as His. Xo arm so 
strong. If you will not wait for Him, you need not wait 
for another. But let us speak somewhat of special trial. 

( 1. ) Church trials. 

I have thought that people get madder, and say harder 
things against their friends about religion and politics than 
anything else. 



WAITING FOR THE LORD. 31 

This man is cross-grained, this one bitter, this one a 
gambler. The woman here is a tattler, the woman there — 
well, her life is not just right Some members don't speak 
at all and some speak too much and there is uncleanness 
and selfishness and blasphemy in the ranks, and all things 
are going awry. How heavily do these evils press upon a 
sensitive, tender heart. Will these wrongs ever be set 
right ? Who is sufficient for these things ? God. Wait 
patiently and the rough places will be made smooth and 
the bitter cup will be sweetened. 

My own soul has grown hot and restless under these 
cares, and I've been amazed, even angry at the sluggishness 
and stupidity of church life. I have wondered why God 
was so slow, why He did not make haste to come with 
sweet peace and set things moving in His name. Yes, in 
my soul's hot unrest and grinding anxiety I have almost 
doubted God. "And ye all have need of patience." 

(2.) Business trials. 

Far too many people rule God out of business. He will 
do for church matters — sentiments. You can talk to Him 
about predestination and free grace and the soul's salva- 
tion, but what is He to do with every-day affairs — with 
business? Why does the apple fall to the ground rather 
than shoot skyward ? Did man fix that ? Is it not God 
in the laws of gravitation ? Why is it that the world in its 
marvelously rapid revolutions around the sun doesn't 
throw us precipitously into space ? O, it is God in the law 
of force holding us back. God counts the hairs on your 
head and marks the sparrow's fall. He knows of the pearls 
of the sea and all the hidden treasures of the earth. From 
the tiniest blade of grass to the towering Alps; from a 



32 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

drop of water to the thundering ocean; from the glow- 
worm to the blazing sun God reigns, God knows. 

Think you that He who painted the cheek of the lily 
and gave plumage and songs to birds and hears the ravens 
when they cry, cares nothing for you, His mightiest crea- 
tion, nor for your business, nor your struggles ? No, no, my 
friend, think no longer our God is going out of business. 
His hands have shaped the channels of the sea, are guiding 
the stars in their courses and shaping the characters and 
destinies of nations, but nevertheless they are resting on 
you, holding you, my brother, in your business. Don't 
rule Him out, Don't forget Him. You'll need Him while 
the days are going by. You are not accumulating as fast as 
you thought one time to do. You had hoped to get rich, 
but somehow things don't go your way. You feel the dis- 
appointment keenly. You may now be tempted to take a 
near cut to wealth — to do a dishonest thing. Remember 
some things are better than gold — unsullied character, a 
restful conscience, the sweet presence of the Lord, all these 
are better. 

Go slow. Wait. What you need most of all is to wait 
patiently for the Lord. He's coming. He sees the busi- 
ness when it is tottering. He knows your credit is strained. 
Hears the wild throb of your heart. Catches up those bit- 
ter sighs at night. Sees the tears as they steal down your 
cheek. Knows those half suicidal purposes. Stop ! Wait, 
His great heart is touched by your infirmities. He feels for 
you in all your business trials. Business may totter, may 
fall, but your God will stand, and He stands for you. Then 
trust him. Wait patiently. Your soul will be the better 
and the happier for waiting. 



WATTING FOR THE LORD. 33 

(3.) Home trials. 
What a great world is home. Here secrets may be told and 
kept. Here the tired man may come and rest and the dear 
little woman find peace and the children know the deepest 
love and protection. Birds sing the sweetest at home and 
the skies overhead are the bluest, and here we catch the 
finest visions. But home is not always so sunny. Even 
the happiest home has its dark days. Sometimes the sun 
hides behind the clouds; sometimes the tear-drop falls; 
sometimes hearts are breaking. It often follows that 
where love is the strongest grief is the keenest, and dark- 
ness is more black in contrast with the brightest light. The 
tempter comes and heart happiness begins slowdy to ooze 
out. The Old Bible is not quite so dear. The family altar 
has been neglected. Business reverses or success may 
drive out God. Flushed or depressed with this life the soul 
may forget to wait for its Lord. 

Maybe your boy has gone out from home and is pressing 
the dark paths of sin. He has been gone so long. He has 
fallen so low, you have been waiting all these months and 
years half hoping, but your heart is breaking. You cry,, 
''Will he ever come back?" God only know T s. Wait for 
Sim. 

Maybe your daughter, on wdiom you had built your hopes, 
so fair, so beautiful and once so good, has brought at last 
crimson to your cheek, and an aching into your heart* 
You hang your harp upon the willow tree. How can you 
sing any more ? Wait, wait, God can cure the deepest 
w^ounds. He can even mend heart strings. The music may 
not be so loud, but it will be far sweeter, if sadder. Wail 
patiently for God and when he shall come He will mend 

3s 



34 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

those broken heart strings, .and when He shall sweep His 
fingers across them they shall send forth melodies almost 
divine. Wait, wait. Your children will not always behave 
like angels and your wife will not always be as sweet as 
when you led her to the altar, and your husband, poor fel- 
low, if he could have fallen from grace he would have 
tumbled long time ago. As it is God knows he has brought 
you enough trouble. Yes, sometimes there are glances that 
flash fire and harsh angry words, and alas, the cudgel when 
the drunkard comes home. It is enough to break your 
spirit. Surely you could not endure all this but for 
divine help. Never give up. "Let patience have her per- 
fect work." Trust in God. "Wait for Him and He will 
bring thy wayward children home and give them a sweeter 
peace and drive the darkness out and shoot sunshine in 
every heart and set all the birds a-singing. The loud 
laughter, the pattering feet, the wildest disagreement and 
a thousand questions through the day will not put your 
nerves on the rack and make you fret and worry when 
Jesus comes. 

Bear with the little ones. Don't fly into a passion be- 
cause of every noise. ' Be good to them. 0, be so patient. 
For some day the little feet will resound no longer in the 
hall and their little lips will ask no more questions. No 
more will the little darling fall and come to Mamma to be 
kissed. No more will the baby come to you and say "I'm 
sleepy." Their little feet and hands will be still out yon- 
der and they will not come home any more. Ah ! then you 
would give a world like this for the baby to rock, for some 
little darling to hug to your bosom, for the little noisy feet 
to patter down the hall. Be patient with the children — 



WAITING FOR THE LORD. 35 

be patient with, the home "folks." They are here to-day, 
but God alone knows where they will be to-morrow. Wait 
for God. For yon won't have to w r ait for Him long after 
all. Your vigils are growing fewer. The goal is almost 
in sight. The night of sorrow T is passing. Yonr spirit 
longs for its freedom and its God. 

Many years ago a father, with his little son twelve years 
old, left a town in Pennsylvania to visit 'New York. They 
kissed the home "folks" good-bye, hoping soon to return. 
They reached the great city and stopped at one of the great 
botels. When morning came the father said to the son, 
"I am going out for a little early shopping. When you are 
•dressed and ready go down and w 7 ait for me at the 
office and then we'll go to breakfast," The boy 
waited and the hours dragged by, but father didn't return. 
-Search was made, but no discovery. It w r as thought the 
father was robbed and murdered. The little fellow w 7 as 
wild with grief, and turned at last mournfully for home. 
It was a great shadow on that home, but to her dying day 
the mother kept looking for the absent husband, but he 
never came home. 2s ot so with our Lord. No evil can 
befall Him since He broke the bands of death. 

Weary soul, waiting soul, keep up your courage ; it wont 
be long. The night is far spent and over the hill-tops may 
be seen the flashings of immortal light. Tip-toe and catch 
•a rapturous vision of your Lord. He is coming — the King 
of Glory — the Redeemer. Soon the shouts of heavenly 
hosts shall be heard and every blood-washed sinner shall 
go home. There all tears shall be w r ashed away and all 
-waiting shall be ended. 



God's Manifest Presence a Guarantee 
Against Fear. 



I will fear no evil for thou art with me. — Ps. 23 : 4.. 

My Father! see 
I trust the faithfulness displayed of old, 
I trust the love that never can grow cold — 

I trust in thee. 

— Christian Intelligence. 

Be not so much discouraged in the sight of what is yet to be- 
done, as comforted in His good will towards thee. 'Tis true He 
hath chastened thee with rod and sore afflictions ; but did He ever 
take away His loving kindness from thee ? or did His faithfulness 
fail in the sorest, blackest, thickest, darkest night that ever befell, 
thee ? — I. Pennington. 



(36) 



GOD'S PRESENCE A GUARANTEE AGAINST FEAR. 37 



III. 

The Psalmist, with perfect confidence in his guide, with 
a long and delightful experience with the shepherd of his 
soul, breaks forth in song, "I will fear no evil." Xow, by 
the help of the Holy Spirit, I will give you the ground of 
his confidence and joy, and not only this, but that also of 
every soul that has been washed in the blood of the Lamb, 

Men are cowards. 

In a broad and significant sense this is true. This is a 
humiliating confession for man to make ; it stings his 
pride ; it brands him as unworthy the confidence of brave 
spirits. He does not like to entertain such thoughts. The 
very thought brings shame. Man is a proud creature; 
he prefers the admiration to the scorn of his fellow-beings, 
of course. He would be thought of at his best, and not 
at his worst, so he seeks to hide this vice, for a cowardly 
world hates cowardice. But as long as there are sons and 
daughters of Adam on the earth, fear, yes, cowardice, will 
prevail. It is a. weakness of the human family. It is a 
vice inherent to the carnal nature, and flourishes most in 
an unwashed heart. I doubt not David himself was a great 
coward before he met in spirit the Heavenly Shepherd. 
Notwithstanding he dared to face bears and lions and tear 
them asunder, and in an uneven match slew the chief of 
the Phillistines, yet did he tremble at the tread of Saul, 
and was often in flight for his life. When Nathan thun- 
dered at David with the charge, "Thou art the man!'' the 
king was afraid. His bravery melted into cowardice. 

Man is a coward because he is self -centered. 



38 st. pierre's rain - of fire. 

All self -centered men are cowardly. Iso man can ' be 
brave whose self is his hope, his shrine, his god. To be 
self -centered is to eliminate God from one's affections, yea,, 
from his very thoughts. His fellow-men also are neglected 
— indeed, they are often despicable — very pigmies in his- 
sight He sees nothing good nor great in others, cares 
naught for them, only as he can make them serve his 
selfish purposes. They are rubbish in his sight, to be cast 
aside, or else blocks or stones over which he hopes to pass* 
up to his pride and self -idolatry. 

Ah, the poor little creature that shuts himself up in his 
own little world with never a man nor moon nor star to 
shine, save in his own narrow circle, is small indeed, and 
certainly is to be pitied. Such a being knows not the mean- 
ing of courage. He is too much in love with his own shriv- 
eled life to risk anything for God or man. The more pre- 
cious a man's life is to himself, the more self-centered he is,, 
the more cowardly. God deliver us from such, and for 
these give us men ! 

Man is cowardly because he sees a dreadful foe in death. 

He knows death is the goal toward which all paths 
earthly lead. He knows that once death's grimy hands- 
feel for the cords of life there can be no backing down, 
no pity shown, no release from man's last enemy. Death 
humbles the proud, destroys all distinction, lays the prince* 
and pauper down in the common dust. Death is no inspec- 
tor of persons, and sooner or later its fatal shafts will 
stick in every heart. Then the grave and the beyond — the 
untried realities of eternity. What then ? What then ?' 
Who but the bravest can walk intrepid to the black 
water's edge ? Who but the stoutest soul can face without 
a tremor life's last flood ? 



god's presence a guarantee against fear. 39 

"How shocking must thy summons be, 0, death. 
To him that is at ease in his possessions : 
Who counting on long years of pleasure here. 
Is quite unfurnished for that world to come ! 

What a contrast to Pope's "Dying Christian to His 
Soul." 

"The world recedes; it disappears! 
Heaven opens to my eyes, my ears 
With sounds seraphic ring ; 
Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly !" 

Oh, may every one in this presence meet death thus ! 
V5 Tiat peace must come to a scene like this. What sunshine 
to light the portals that give exit to the soul departing. 

Z\Ian is a coward because of sin. 

After all it is sin that brings sorrow to the human heart, 
that makes men tremble when they walk under great 
shadows. Sin makes cowards of us all. It plants our 
pillows with thornSj crowds the sick-room with lions and 
adders, wings death with scorpions and fills the grave with 
the blackness and horrors of hell. Sin is man's bitterest 
foe ; and as he begins to realize it, as he must in time, what 
agony to his dying. 

Mastered by sin, manacled by sin, what soul is there that 
does not quake at the thought of the now and forever* 

A poor fellow as he lay dying cried out: "I don't want 
to die; I'm afraid.*' In vain did his friends try to quiet 
his fears, but he cried the more : "I'm afraid ! my sins ! 
my sins !" And in the anguish of his soul he passed out 
into the dread etemitv. 



40 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

some xotes. 

Xote 1. — Men are often brave in war. 

The inspiring strains of martial music set the soldier's 
nerves a-tingling. There is an uplift in the brass band. 
One might pass vour door at this moment and how it would 
stir your hearts. The martial music, the blazing campflre, 
the shouts of men, the din of battle, all arouses the wildest 
enthusiasm — not infrequently drives to desperation. 

Men may be cowards at home, blanch at the creaking of 
a door or tremble at the falling of the shadows, yet will 
bear the breast to shot and shell or stand intrepid before 
the belching cannon, but let the campfires die out, let the 
band be silent, let the clatter of bayonets, the roar of guns, 
the din of battle he heard no more — and then — and then. 

Kote 2. — Men are often brave when in ra^e. 

In his normal state a child may put him to flight, but 
when stirred with anger he ventures where angels dare not 
tread. He is over-balanced, he is wild, he is desperate. 
ISTothing daunts him, nothing turns him. He is like a rag- 
ing beast, like crackling fire, knows nothing but destruc 
tion. Oh, he is brave, but where is reason ? He is not him- 
self. Just let the fires of passion burn to the palor of ashes 
and then an awful and painful cowardice ensues. 

!Note 3. — Men are often brave when inflamed with rum. 

Some of the most timid, some of the most shrinking, 
some of the most gentle characters I have ever known have 
become as unchained hyenas under the influence of strong 
drink. With a cool brain he had studiously avoided dan- 
ger. He was afraid. But he is acting strangely now. He 
talks loudly, he boasts, he swears, insults his best friends, 
he is irritable, he swaggers and staggers, his eyes 



god's presence a guarantee against fear. 41 

■flash fire, his cheeks burn red, his words cut like 
knives. What means all this ? Strong drink ? Strong 
drink will drive a man to the knife, to the 
pistol, to the black waters. It will dash the coward 
from the cliff to the yawning chasm below. Inflamed with 
rum the loving husband will stagger home at night and 
hrain the dear little woman he swore to always defend. 
Crazed by liquor the adoring father creeps stealthily 
to the bed, with fiendish eye looks on the little one sleeping 
— glares, gloats, lifts his hands with a yell of hellish pleas- 
ure and plunges the dagger into his darling's heart. This 
is brave. But it is the rousing of a demon. But such 
bravery does not protect, nor does it give any comfort. It 
is false, it is dangerous, it is damning. 

The best guarantee against fear and against evil is the 
presence of Christ. 

ISTow who can afford to be without the best, and who can 
be satisfied with less than the best ? Can less than the best 
•support you in life's deep shadows ? And when you come 
to death's sullen stream who but Jesus can drive back the 
breakers and keep the flood from overwhelming you ? Who 
but Jesus can give quiet to the heart ? 

How terrific sometimes is one's loneliness. One in- 
stinctively shudders at the approaching shadows. The 
child is afraid to be alone. All humanity craves for com- 
panionship. A stranger not infrequently frightens a child 
and darkness makes it cry out. Oh, the fear, the real heart 
anguish that comes to one as he feels a deep sense of his 
insecurity. 

A small girl tries to sleep as she lies on her bed in the 
•dark ; she rolls from side to side, sighs heavily, starts with 



42 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

fright, and cries out, "I can't sleep.*' And the mother says, 
"What is the matter with my little daughter ? Why can't 
she sleep to-night ? ?? And the child replies, "I am afraid 
of the dark. Come here, mamma, I won't be afraid any 
more.'' In the mother's presence the child did not fear the 
dark, but went smiling into sleep. So if Christ be with us 
in the world's dark places we will not be afraid, for there- 
is nothing to harm us in the presence of Jesus, for there 
is always safety and comfort where Jesus is. 

(a) Jesus' presence in temporal disasters. 

Calamities befall men ever where — no man, no com- 
munity, no nation enjoys an immunity from misfortunes. 
Trials, heartaches, losses, these are the common heritages 
of humanity. They follow always in the wake of the 
world's march to the judgment. 

There is the shrinkage of bonds, the instability of se- 
curities, the fluctuation of the market ; then there is los- 
by fire and loss by water, and loss by cyclone, loss by earth- 
quake, and losses by many agencies, but no man need have 
a broken heart nor be afraid at such bosses. David said, 
'Tor Thou art with ma" Paul said, ''Xone of these things 
move me.' v 

Many a Christian merchant and professional man and 
needle-woman and shop-girl and farmer have seen all their 
possessions taken by wind or wave or flame or thief 
and never murmured, but praised God. Why this beauti- 
ful resignation, this calmness of spirit '. My friends, it was 
the presence of Christ. Xo one can rush out of his house 
into the street and watch the hungry flames eat up his home 
with all his valuables and every dear old heirloom and 
praise God, unless Christ is with him. The saint may be 



god's presence a guarantee against fear. 4& 

homeless here, but Jesus has prepared him a mansion in 
glory. Why should he be afraid ? Homes may crumble, 
fields may wash away, merchandise may be consumed, all. 
prospects terrestrial may banish forever, but Christ is near 
you, dear soul, and is opening for you visions celestial. He- 
holds you and leads you on through the dark. Hear Him 
as He speaks to you, "Let not your heart be troubled,, 
neither let it be afraid." 

A poor old woman lay dying in the alms-house. She had 
no home, no friends. Some one came in to pity her and to 
comfort her, but pointing up to the far off skies she cried 
out joyously, "From the poor-house to the mansion." And 
then went home. She was not afraid, Christ was with- 
her. 

(b) Jesus' presence in the loss of loved ones. 

And here is where we specially need Jesus. What a 
trial to sit in the sick-room and see the darkness slowly 
fall and the black tide slowly rise. The fast breathing,, 
the flushed cheek, the wild glare in the eye, the bead on 
the brow, all point to the last hour. Soon the farewells 
must be said ; soon the loved form must be lowered out of 
sight. In this dark hour, with these wild breakers of death 
what arms can support like these of Christ ? What voice 
can pity, what cordial revive, what presence can make glad 
even the still chamber of death, but Jesus? To the one 
leaning on the everlasting arms there is quiet A sweet 
calm comes into the heart of him who lays his head on the- 
Shepherd's bosom. Did not Jesus speak to the wild winds- 
and waves and did they not obey Him ? Did He not rescue- 
Peter from the flood and quiet his fears ? He says : "It is- 
I, be not afraid." Though compassed by death and the. 



44 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

..grave, let there go up a cry from tlie heart of every blood- 
washed sinner sitting in the dark, it may be alone with his 
dead, "I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me." It is 
.a good battle cry. It is a sure weapon of defence. It is the 
mighty slogan in life's campaign. Let the sheep walk close 
'.■to the shepherd. 

There can be no danger lying at His feet. 
I visited the home of a gentleman in this city, not many 
days ago/ and as I sat in the parlor my soul was deeply 
moved at the wailing of the poor broken-hearted father. 
In the back room lay a beautiful child, rosy-cheeked, blue 
eyed, golden-haired. She was burning up with fever. She 
was dying. Her father worshipped her, but he was an un- 
believer, he was a blasphemer. His piteous cries would 
have broken your heart. He said, "I want to go down tc 
-.the grave with her, I want to hold her in my arms till the 
judgment. I may not be prepared to meet God, but I can 
be with her that long." And then he broke down and 
• sobbed. In vain did I try to comfort him. The poor man's, 
need was Jesus. He could not say, "I will fear no evil, for 
Thou art with me." 

I pity the man who tries to beat back life's flood with his 
own hands — yea, my heart yearns with the deepest solici- 
tude for the poor fellow who with his own little torch, is 
seeking to find his own way through the impenetrable dark- 
ness of death. 

Large hearted friends may take you in their arms, the 
sweetest voice may sing to your sorrow, the gentlest hands 
may touch the bleeding wounds, bul, the heart, will still 
feel a bitterness and mourn the loss without the magic 
touch of the Son of God. I visited another home and how 



god's presence a guarantee against fear. 45 

different. Here lay a young mother all still and cold in 
death. Beautiful in life, still beautiful in death. Just 
before the parting breath she had sung, "Asleep in Jesus' ? 
and "Saw the Gates Ajar/' and then swept through them 
with a smile upon her face. Her mother, too, was sup- 
ported by Divine grace, and though the big tears rolled 
down her cheeks, she praised God as she thought on the 
triumph over death. Jesus was in the room. His presence 
was her support. 

(c) His presence in the last hours. 

Men may do or imagine they do pretty well without 
Jesus on a sunny day. They are not afraid of the sun- 
shine, but they do grow a bit afraid when the dark days 
come on. The hill-tops are flattering. They offer security* 
and comfort, but as one begins to step down into the vale 
where the dews lie thick upon the grasses and the shadowy 
forms stalk around, he feels a strange sense of uneasiness. 

It is said that time and place often make timid men. 
bold, but time and place often make bold men afraid. 

An infidel and a very pious bishop sat one clay on the 
deck of a great ship discussing things eternal. The infidel 
scoffed at the bishop's faith. Presently there arose a storm 
at sea; the great wind howled and the sea rolled and the 
black waves beat furiously upon the ship, and the infidel 
was swept into the seething waters. Whereupon he began 
to cry for mercy and call upon the bishop to plead with God 
for his poor lost soul. The bishop taunted him, saying, 
"I thought you did not believe in God." The miserable- 
wretch replied, "It makes all the difference in being on the 
deck and in the deep waters." 

The prince and the pauper must lie down together. The- 



46 ST. pierke's rain of fjre. 

proud and the humble must come to the same dust. The 
hater of God will sooner or later yield his weapons. No 
•carnal bravery, no earthly equipment can brook the channel 
that separates between the shores. 

Mr. Geile tells a very pathetic story. He said as he was 
"traveling in the far east he met, one night on the beautiful 
Switzerland mountain, a most interesting gentleman, a 
lawyer of great renown, and as they stood leaning against 
a great rock, they began to speak of the white stars that 
shine so lustrously in the east. And the stars spoke of 
God and eternity. The lawyer with a far-off dreamy ex- 
pression on his face, and a tenderness in his voice, spoke 
of a death-bed scene that occurred in his own home years 
■ago. Said he : "I once stood by the bedside of my daughter, 
just twenty years old. Her form was very thin, her face 
was white. She was not long for this world. She looked 
up into my hard face, (for I was not a believer), and said, 
"kiss me, papa." I kissed her. I was so bitter. I almost 
worshiped her and death was robbing me, She said, "Kiss 
me again, papa." I kissed her — this time more tenderly 
— my heart was breaking. As I stood looking on her 
wasted but radiant face she threw up her hands and said, 
"Lord Jesus, take me now," and her spirit took its flight. 
Sir, by the help of God I shall meet her beyond those white 
stars." And his voice trembled and his eyes filled with 
tears. I beseech you, friends, to make friends with Jesus 
— throw yourself on His mercy, abide in His presence. Oh, 
take no other, you need him now, but can you pass through 
i:he black waters unless Jesus goes with you and hold you 
up ? 



BIBLE PROMISE. 



li He shall call upon me, and I will answer him. I will be with 
Ihim in trouble; I will deliver liim, and honor him. With long 
life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation." 



(47 



Halting at the Red Sea. 



And the Lord said unto Moses, wherefore crieth thou unto me ? 
Speak unto the children of Israel that they go forward. — Ex. 4: 14. 

Be trustful, be steadfast, whatever betide thee, 

Only one thing do thou ask of the Lord 
Grace to go forward wherever He guide thee, 

Simply believing the truth of His word. 

— Anon. 

The soul ceases to weary itself with planning and foreseeing, 
giving itself up to God's Holy Spirit within, and to the teaching 
of His Providence without. * * * * - # 

He is not forever fretting at his progress, or looking back to see 
how far he is getting on, and makes all the more progress because 
it is unconscious. So he never gets troubled and discouraged ; if 
he falls he humbles himself, but gets up at once and faces on with 
renewed earnestness. — Jean Nicolas Grou. 



{48) 



HALTING AT THE RED SEA. 49 



IV. 



The Israelites were standing on the banks of the Red 
Sea, about 3,000,000 strong. Pharaoh and his army were 
pressing hard upon them. The almost impenetrable 
wilderness w T as all about them, while the unbridged and 
unvesseled sea rolled before them. To stand still was to 
die, to turn to either side was to perish in the wilderness, 
to turn back was to fall in the hands of the irate and mer- 
ciless Egyptians, and to go forward seemed a move- 
ment born of desperation, for the wdld sea plunged at their 
feet. What can they do; what must they do, wdth every 
avenue of escape closed to them ? 

Somehow they forgot their marvelous preservation as 
a nation during the centuries and those terrific miracles — ■ 
God's mighty manifestation of mercy to them. His slay- 
ing of all the first born in Egypt, His loving deliverance 
of them at the passover. Where w 7 as their gratitude, and 
where w as their faith ? How soon w T e forget Him and His 
preserving grace. "And when Pharaoh drew nigh, the 
children of Israel lifted up their eyes and, behold, the 
Egyptians marched after them and they were sore afraid : 
and the children cried out unto the Lord. 

"And they said unto Moses, Because there were no graves 
in Egypt, hast thou taken us away to die in the wilderness ? 
Wherefore hast thou dealt with us, to carry us forth out of 
Egypt? Is not this the word that we did tell thee in 
Egypt, saying, Let us alone that w T e may serve the 
Egyptians? Eor it had been better for us to serve the 
Egyptians than that we should die in the wilderness." 
Ex. 14: 10, 12, 11. 



50 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

They doubted God and chided Moses. But how strong 
was Moses just now as he trusted in the Almighty. See 
his stalwart faith. "And Moses said unto the people, 
Pear ye not, stand still and see the salvation of the Lord, 
which He will show to you to-day : for the Egyptians whom 
ye have seen to-day, ye shall see them again no more for- 
ever. 

"The Lord shall fight for you and ye shall hold your 
peace." Ex. 14:13, 14. 

But we find Moses now in the depths. How quickly has? 
he fallen. So strong then, so weak now. Comforting his 
fellow country men now, now begging comfort for him- 
self. History repeats itself. It has ever been so. And 
we are doing to-day as Moses did. Our faith is so bright 
and our hope so sweet we don't see how we can ever doubt 
Him, but soon, so very soon, the lights are out and we are 
trembling in the dark. 

The Israelites may have threatened the life of Moses. 
Certainly they were in a desperate attitude. Or Moses 
might have seen the glittering chariots and the spirited 
chargers of the enemy. At any rate, he was greatly 
troubled now and was at prayer. The Israelites were 
longing for their onions and garlic and the flesh pots of 
Egypt. Alas ! too many church folks have the taste of 
these same vegetables in their spiritual mouths, their 
hearts are yet in Egypt, but Moses longed to be rid of his 
enemies. He was talking to his Lord. But is it not true 
that the children are too much on their knees ? Prayer 
is an essential element in the Christian life. He needs 
to be much in prayer, but he can be too much. Talk to 
God. Ask Him for what you want. Trust Him for an 



HALTING AT THE RED SEA. 51 

answer and get up and go and do whatsoever your hands 
find to do. The Lord was not harsh with His servant. He 
was not unkind, but He did lovingly chide him. Moses 
was spiritually bewildered, stupid. Was asking for the 
things he already possessed. He had the promise and as- 
surance of deliverance. Had just a little while ago con- 
fidently spoken to the anxious hosts. God would not have 
him lose any time. He speaks to arouse him from his 
spiritual stupor. What is needed now is not prayer, but 
a commanding of the Israelites and the striking of the 
Red Sea. Marching is often better than kneeling or stand- 
ing about the altar. When people's lives are in danger 
you need works as w r ell as prayers. 

Imagine the ludicrous picture of a boy asking his mother 
for bread when he holds in his hands a great chunk, eating 
gluttinously, or a child asking for water when he holds 
to his lips a pitcher of water. 

But there is another picture. Your house is on fire. Your 
children are on the inside, their lives in constant danger. 
Wliat will you do* Kneel before the kindling flames till 
all be consumed, or will you dash into the burning build- 
ing and save your children ? The answer is obvious. 

"And the Lord said uMo Moses, wherefore crieth thou 
unto Me ? Speak unto the children of Israel that they go 
forward. " O let us trust God and go forward. Too 
many of our churches are doubting and halting and say- 
ing prayers when they ought to be marching. There are 
mountains to scale and seas to cross and tides to stem. 
Xet us be up and off. 

Christians need to go forward. 

1st. In faith. 



52 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

"Without faith it is impossible to please Him." And 
with little faith you can't please him much. Out of your 
heart cry "Lord increase my faith." Say it brother, sister ; 
say it now and go forward trusting in God. 

There are problems too hard for you to solve. There 
are difficulties you can never surmount. There is one way. 
Trust in God. 

A teacher, trying one day to impress the lesson of faith 
upon a class of little boys, took a penny out of his pocket 
and said, "John, come here and get the penny." The lit- 
tie fellow said, "hem, hem," just grunted and looked wist- 
fully. The teacher then said, "James, come and get the- 
penny." James* Rooked longingly at the money and grunted,, 
and like John, he never came. The proposition went on 
down the line, all refusing, all doubting till the last boy 
was reached. "Here, Henry, is a penny, come and it is 
yours." Whereat Henry stepped quickly forward and 
said "gimme, gimme," reaching out his little hand for 
the penny. Dear soul, have you great sorrows ? Have* 
you trials that press you sore? HaveSyou afflictions and 
temptations? Have you bereavements that make your 
heart ache ? Is your home so dark, so dreary now with 
your children lying out yonder in their graves ? Well, God 
knows all your losses and your griefs. Trust Him. 

0, you say "life is so hard, the road is so dark. I can 
not see my way out." Well, better than that, God can. 
But you say "my path leads me to the wall without gate 
or opening. lam shut in," All for the best Leave it, 
child, with God ; your detention will be for your good if 
shut in with Him for awhile. You can only get your faith 
strengthened. And after all, God will shut no door 



HALTING AT THE RED SEA. 53 

against you, which you ought to pass through. Then look 
up, ye disconsolate, ye broken-hearted. Trust Him and 
move on. 

2d. We ought to go forward in personal efforts. Under 
God w r e can not make too much of personal efforts. If this 
•old world is ever brought to the feet of Christ it will not 
be done by angels or armies or the spirit of the just men 
made perfect, but by personal efforts of men and women 
•on earth. 

Things are intensely personal down here. We can not 
-deny the charge. Our eating is personal, our sleeping is 
personal, our w r aking is personal, our joys and sorrows are 
personal. A man can not praise God for another or blas- 
pheme His holy name. He must either go to heaven for 
himself or to hell. Men are exerting their personal efforts 
<every day for good and bad. Oh, how the world needs your 
personal efforts, my friend, for its emancipation and up- 
lifting. ISTo other man can take your place in this life. 
Every one must fill his own place. If your efforts are sus- 
pended, if your life is wasted here, no soul can make up the 
loss, neither in time nor eternity. But let man's zeal be 
according to knowdedge. There is time to speak, certainly 
there is time to tell men about their soul's salvation; but 
what w T ould you think of a fellow crying out to a man run- 
ning to catch a train, "hold on there, I w^ant to talk to you 
about your soul. Are you prepared to die?" A w r oman 
has fallen overboard and is now struggling for her life. 
Shall I give out a hymn and take a text and preach a ser- 
mon warning the drowning woman to flee the wrath to 
come ? If I did you w 7 ould call me a fool. No, I'll plunge 
in, lay hold of her and save her from drowning. Wouldn't 
you ? 



54 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

A poor foolish fellow was just chafing to help on the 
kingdom, so he secured a lot of religious tracts to dis- 
tribute. The first soul he met on the street was a one- 
legged soldier, to whom he promptly gave a tract on danc- 
ing. Some "folks" ought to "go way back and sit down." 
Watch for opportunities, study human characters. Seek 
the wisdom of God. Have a passion for souls. Lose not 
a moment. Strike while the iron is hot, but make no speed, 
put forth no effort that would drive the soul beyond your 
reach. It is a sanctified art-, it is an incomparable attain- 
ment to be able to lead lost souls to Jesus. 

Be in haste, but never get in a flurry. It takes time, it 
takes religion, it takes sense to save people. 

A minister was once urging his congregation to more 
piety, to stronger religious activities. So eloquent, so im- 
portunate was his appeal, that a gentleman sitting near 
the stand leaped to his feet, rushed down the aisle with 
open Bible in hand. He was wild. He met a sad-faced 
stranger near the door. He stopped suddenly, caught hold 
of him and said, almost screaming: "You want to go to 
heaven, sir, you want to go to heaven ?" The poor man 
was frightened almost out of his life. When he could 
speak he said, "No, no, no." "Well, go to hell," said the 
Bible man, and then marched deliberately back to his seat. 

Just such cranks as this fellow are bringing religion 
into disrepute and putting the heavenly manna beyond the 
reach of the starving. 

I tell you, men and women, it is good to expell ignorance 
and superstition; it is blessed to provide for widows and 
orphans ; it is beautiful to drv tears of the mourner and 
speak some tender words to the broken-hearted. Yes, you 



HALTING AT THE RED SEA. 55 

do well to lift up a very high standard of morals in the 
community, but the greatest work on earth is to save souls 
from death. Then engage in the highest service and wait 
not for another. Why shoot at sparrows when you can 
kill lions ? 

One night at the Houston factory, I was preaching on 
the Love of God. The sermon was over, the door of the 
church was open, and several came forward. Among the 
converts was a tall, beautiful young woman. The tears 
were running down her cheeks. The pastor asked her for 
her Christian experience. She said: "To-night, while the 
preacher was talking on the blood of Jesus, I felt my sins 
roll away." And her face was radiant. I wept for joy. 
I couldn't help it Go out, then, and bring in the lost 
You can do no better thing this side of heaven. Next to 
your own salvation is the salvation of the soul in which 
God has used you. 

3d. We ought to go forward in sympathy. 

Sympathy cannot dwell richly in a selfish heart He who 
is wrapped up in himself logically excludes all others. No 
soul can reach a high round in the spiritual ladder who 
does not reach it through other hearts. The man who live* 
closest to the earth is he who shuts his heart against the 
cries of his brother. For one's own spiritual advancement, 
for his happiness and usefulness he must enlarge in sym- 
pathy. He owes it to himself, therefore, to cultivate this 
heavenly flower. 

No wonder men and women are so sour and crabid. 
They live so far from other people. The church is on stilts 
above the world, and the saint too much turns his back 
upon the sinner. Let us who love the Lord turn quickly 



56 ST. pierre's rain of fire. 

to the fallen and give liim a brother's hand. Perhaps he 
has heard no kind word to-day, nor seen a friendly iace. 
One honest smile might wake a heaven in his soul, and 
loving, sympathetic arms could lift him to the rapturous 
embrace of Jesus. 

Delay no longer in giving this sympathy to the sorrow- 
ful. Already it has been withheld till the poor heart is 
starving. 

A story is told of a drunken Irishman. One day the 
Irishman staggering along, came to a ditch. Standing on 
the edge he looked down and saw his friend dead drunk 
at the bottom. Gazing for a moment on the unfortunate 
fellow he said: "Pat, in faith, I can't get you out, but I 
can get down there with you." 

Men are down in the world, some very low, some at the 
bottom, in the blackest slums. Get down with them. One 
sympathetic touch of your hand may revive them. One 
warm heart throb of yours beating against the dead heart 
of your submerged brother, may kindle again the liveliest 
hope. 

A poor scarlet woman, dead to home and to virtue, a 
roaming outcast, was arrested one day on the streets for 
some crime. The officers took her to prison, there to await 
her trial. The dungeon door had hardly shut her in when 
a handsomely dressed woman, a very angel on earth, ap- 
peared. She asked the keeper if she might see the poor 
creature. The door was opened and she entered. There 
sat the outcast with dissheveled hair and splotched face and 
soiled dress, looking the very picture of despair. The 
fine lady walked up to her unfortunate sister, leant over 
and kissed her tenderlv on the cheek. That kiss went 



HALTING AT THE RED SEA. 57 

straight to her heart and broke it. The poor woman wept. 
'Said it was the first kiss she'd had since her mother died. 
Look around you. There are plenty of unfortunates 
steeped in sin. They have gone very deep down in crime, 
font you know not their environments, nor their parentage, 
nor their peculiar weaknesses and temptations. They are 
waiting for your help and loving sympathy. A smile, a 
tear, a warm hand-grasp may be your angels to open the 
door of heaven for your brother and sister in sin. Then 
send them on their blessed mission. 
4th. Finally go forward in sacrifice. 
I fear most of us have not gotten further than the alpha- 
bet of this language. It is a dear language and is so hard 
to learn. O, that we might master it all, at least, get a 
working vocabulary. How the few celebrities in this 
strange, sweet doctrine revel in it. They say it is delight- 
ful to the soul. My friend, let us strive after this joy, 
the rare joy of sacrifice. 

If we did not love self so much we'd have more love for 
others. If we loved others better we'd find the royal road 
of sacrifice. Great love knows great sacrifices. 

A true husband will give all he has and all he is for his 
wife. The mother will lay down her life for her chiicl. 
Yes, friend will die for friend, but matchless love was that 
■of Christ, He died for his enemies. ]STo such death could 
have been provoked, but for the unspeakable love of God. 
Sacrifice ! 'sacrifice ! Who can know its meaning? Who 
can fathom its depths ? Who can scale its heights ? Who 
can sail its boundless sea ? Oh, talk not so boastfully, say 
not what you have done when you have given up nothing, 
suffered nothing, lost nothing when three bountiful meals 



58 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

a day are yours and a clever wardrobe always. When a 
penny goes to the heathen and a dollar for your luxuries,, 
a crumb to the orphans and a plum pudding for your own 
dinner, a rag for the beggar and a silk for the gratification 
of your pride. ' Give God no longer your refuse, your 
miserable leavings, but pour bountifully into His treasury. 
Go forward. Go forward in real sacrifice. Give up. Live 
without. Learn the meaning. 

A precious little girl took up her mother's hands one 
day in her own chubby hands and said, "niainma what 
makes your hands so ugly and black ?" The poor mother's* 
hands were all blackened and twisted. She gently put hex 
child away and said, "not now, my child, but mamma will 
tell you some day." "Mamma, what makes your hands so 
black," the darling asked again in a few days. The lit- 
tle thing looked really distressed. Again the mother 
gently pushed her aside, saying, "Mamma cannot tell you 
now, so run along to play." But the child was troubled. 
She could not play, for the vision of those strange hands 
was ever before her. She came again with a resolution 
stamped upon her sweet face. Taking up her mother's 
hands once more she said "Come, mamma, tell me what 
makes your hands so black and ugly." There was the 
suspicion of tears in the mother's eyes, as she drew the 
child close to her side. "Well, it was this way, my darling : 
You were sitting in my lap one winter's night, when the 
fires were burning brightly on the hearthstone You were 
so bright and happy that night, as you would look up and 
laugh in mother's face. It seemed I never loved my baby 
so much ; but I don't know how it was, somehow you grew 
restless and all of a sudden you jumped out of my lap into* 



HALTING AT THE RED SEA. 59 

the fire. I leaped immediately into the fire after you, my 
child, and with a desperate effort succeeded in saving your 
life. That's why these hands are so black and ugly. It 
was because I loved my baby so." 

Tears stood in the little girl's eyes as she raised her 
mother's hands to her lips, saying: "Your hands are not 
black and ugly any more, dear mamma ; these are beautiful 
hands." 

O, if you would see His beautiful hands, see them on 
Calvary, as He plunged into the fire, the fire of hate, the 
flames of hell, to snatch you and me from the everlasting 
burnings. Complain no more. Forever be dumb to mur- 
murings and boastings, when you see heaven's best gift, 
your poor soul's dear sacrifice. Give all the gold of Ophar, 
all the diamond fields of Africa, all the pearls of the sea 
and all the worlds, and all these are but a leaf in the forest 
or a drop in the ocean. 

Wait till God has done with this world. Wait till all 
the redeemed have come home ; wait till we shall stand by 
His side on that cloudless day and hear Him tell with His 
own lips what a soul is worth ; then may we know the full 
meaning of sacrifice. 



Shut Doors. 



And while they went to buy the bridegroom came ; and they 
that were ready went in with Him to the marriage ; and the door 
was shut.— Matt. 25: 10. 

Saddest of all words that ever fell on mortal ear, are those words 
of doom: "I know you not." The fellowship of the spirit which 
you have slighted could alone make you one with the joyous 
throng at the marriage feast. In that scene you cannot partici- 
pate. Its light would fall on blinded eyes, its melodies upon deaf 
ears. Its love and joy could awake no chord of gladness in the 
world's benumbed heart. You are shut out from Heaven by your 
own unfitness for its companionship. — Ellen G. White. 



(60) 



SHUT DOORS. 61 



V. 



And while they went to buy, the bridegroom came ; and 
they that were ready went in with him to the marriage: 
and the door was shut. Matt 25 :10. 

This is a very strong and significant parable frill of food 
for thought. Upon it we may meditate with the profound- 
est interest, and draw therefrom lessons of the deepest 
spiritual profit. 

Some have made it teach Apostacy, but can this be a 
logical deduction ? Let ns note the clash between the in- 
spired Matthew and the uninspired foolish virgins. 

The Holy Spirit says, "They that were foolish took their 
lamps and took no oil with them." But what did the foolish 
virgins say ? And the foolish said unto the wise, "Give us 
of your oil, for our lamps are gone out." "Whose state- 
ment shall we believe — Matthew's — as the Spirit speaks 
through him, or the foolish virgin ? 

But whatever this parable teaches or does not teach, it 
certainly does speak of a shut door, and this means a lost 
opportunity. 

Ordinarily, a door is used for a two-fold purpose, viz. : 
to shut in, and to shut out. 

To the esthetical, a door may be admired for its artistic 
effects, but to the practical a door is valued for its utility. 
The shut door is for the protection of those inside; the 
baffling, the confusion of those on the outside. 

1. The door shut on the righteous — opposition to the 
truth. Sin has shut the door in many a good man's face. 
The wicked have ever loved darkness and have, hence r 



62 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

shut themselves up to the blackness of their folly and closed 
the doors to God's torch bearers who would bring them life. 

The nations' doors were a long time closed, and remained 
closed to the advancing armies of peace until God's power 
was made manifest in their opening. The door was shut 
to Joseph for three years in the Egyptian prison, all on ac- 
count of the malignity of a voluptuous queen. The door 
was shut on valiant Daniel, but the lions were as lambs 
that night, and the cruel door brought no harm to the trust- 
ful. The door was shut on the Hebrew children, and 
though the fires raged and the furnace glowed, the angel 
was there. That was enough. Old John Bunyan, faith- 
ful pilgrim, lay in Bedford jail for twelve years, but the 
door that shut him out from the world, shut him in with 
one of the sweetest visions of heaven. 

The door shut on John at Patmos, but the raptures of 
the glory world filled his soul. 

Paul, with his friend, lay in the filthy dungeon of 
Philippi, but at midnight they sang and the old jail 
trembled and the windows and doors flew open. Midnight 
songs will always break down the enemies doors. 

In the early days of the church the saints were perse- 
cuted, whipped, scourged, mutilated, put to death, because 
they dared to preach the gospel and witness for Jesus. The 
door was shut, but God opened it and afterward turned 
an army of believers loose on the world to proclaim the 
everlasting truth. 

In those dark, bloody days of the inquisition, men and 
women were hunted down like deer. Shot, imprisoned, 
starved, tortured, outraged, all because they loved the 
right and hated the wrong. Their cries of distress rent 



SHUT DOORS. 63 

the air; their bodies perished 'neath fire and sword; 
their bones bleached in filthy dungeons, but their sighs and 
tears and blood cried out against their persecutors, and 
God opened the door, and their faith and their children 
•entered in. 

Even in the last century, here in our own glorious 
America — in Georgia — Daniel Marshall, was arrested 
while on his knees, ruthlessly dragged away from prayer, 
and in the Carolinas and Virginia heralds of the cross were 
whipped for proclaiming the gospel. The door was shut- 
But thanks be unto God, it has been opened since, and 
by his loving Providence will remain open 'till Jesus 
comes to bear the faithful to the skies. 

2. Doors closed to God's people because they refuse to 
enter, or at best delay. 

(1) There is the open door of kindly speech. The 
human heart is hungry for a word of promise and good 
cheer. Men and women are dying for the want of sym- 
pathy, for warm, tender affection. The world is cold and 
cruel. Its speech is cutting; its touch is blasting. But 
some heart is breaking, breaking for the consolation you 
have withheld so long. Too late now, the heart is still at- 
last. Your words cannot reach that soul. The door is 
shut. I tell you the soul hungers as well as the body. A 
kind word, a cordial hand-grasp, a sympathetic glance goes 
a long way towards assuaging one's grief and letting the 
sunshine in. 

How often have I seen little children looking so sad, their 
little hearts hungering for reconciliation, waiting for the 
smile and sweet word of forgiveness from mother. 

A poor child sat one day by her mother's bedside. The 



64 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

mother was dying but she told her darling that Jesus would 
send some one to care for her. At length the dear woman 
breathed her last, and some kindly hands laid her away. 
The poor, friendless, heart-broken child went out and lay 
all night on her- mother's grave. The next morning some 
one coming that way saw the lonely orphan lying on her 
new strange bed. The stranger came near and asked why 
she lay there on the ground. She said it was her mother's 
grave and all the friend she had was dead. Continuing 
to talk she said: "Mother told me that Jesus would send 
some kind friend to care for me, and I am just waiting 
for him to come." The stranger was touched at this and 
said, "Well, Jesus has sent me ; come with me." The lit- 
tle girl said, "Well, you've been a long time coming." 

O, let us waste no time in bringing cheer to the lonely, 

O, that God's people might be wise and Christ-like. The 
doors are open all about us. They are so many, so wide, 
so inviting. They are crying unto us. Let us enter with 
sweet and mellow speech that the disconsolate may smile 
again. 

(2) There is the open door of blessed deed. Life is not 
all speech ; though, alas, many go no further than profes- 
sion. Talk is easy, many will stand in the open door of 
beautiful speech, saying: "I love you, be of good cheer, all 
will come right;" and lift not a hand to bear the burden 
or soothe the pain. What the poor soul needs now is not 
words, but deeds — deeds that will put meal in the barrel 
and oil in the cruse and coal in the grate and jackets on 
the little ones' backs, and shoes on their feet. 

The invalid is lonely and hungry. The widow's bonnet- 
is old and her dress is thin and faded. If you would be 



SHUT DOORS. 65 

an angel of mercy, open your purse now. Ah. ! what is that 
cry ? The sufferer is passing. The door is shut. Within 
a stone's throw, right under the shadow of the great Del- 
monico Hall, in Xew York City, a poor woman strolled 
up and down the streets with a bundle of rags in her arms. 
In the rags was her poor, freezing, starving baby. A 
burly policeman stalked up and confronted her as in sor- 
row she stood upon the sidewalk. He turned back the 
rags, and lo, the baby was dead. Somehow they were pro- 
vided for that night, the mother and her baby. The next 
morning the coroner's inquest was held over the child, the 
verdict was "starvation." 

Think of it; in the magnificent Delmonico, which for 
three hours' pleasure was rented for the stupendous sum 
of $40,000, where revelers, riotous, hillarious, while within 
the sound of their voluptuous voices out on the cold streets 
was a homeless, friendless mother nursing her starving 
baby. 

Was ever there a more pathetic picture ? Gold piled up 
here, just out yonder a starving child. Beneath the burn- 
ing, glittering chandelier in Delmonico were the votaries 
of pleasure, but out in the darker streets a poor broken- 
hearted mother ! God pity the poor and make haste to 
send them bread lest all the doors be shut. 

3. There is the door of soul-saving. This is right. 
Is it not necessary to redeem and sustain the natural man ? 
Then how transcendantly important it is to care for the 
soul. The body, at best, will perish and the cold cere- 
ments of death will wrap it about. But the soul ! the soul ! 
It must sing its great Redeemer's praise in heaven or wail 
forever in hell. The door is open now. The soul has its 

5s 



66 st. pierke's rein of fire. 

longings. It is waiting for deferred help. Really, there 
is a welcome for you. You may enter in with your Savior, 
Through the open door you may capture a soul for a glori- 
ous eternity. . You had thought to go. You had promised 
to go. Long- ere this you had hoped to win your brother 
for Jesus. But why are you so slow ? Why postpone this 
matter a single day? The days are going by, the oppor- 
tunities are growing less, the door is slowly closing to. 

I can never forget. It was a pitiful scene, full of pathos 
and of tears. A few years ago, in a certain town in Geor- 
gia, a young fellow lay mortally wounded. He was my 
friend, and I loved him. I had met him in another county. 
He was a wayward son. His poor old mother loved him, 
O, so tenderly, and begged me to pray for him. I did 
pray for him, God knows how fervently. But he seemed 
to grow harder ; he took to drink and grew more dissipated, 
as the days passed by, 'till one day, in a hot dispute 
with one of his neighbors, he fell with a pistol ball crush- 
ing into his body — murdered. They took him up gently 
and bore him off to his home to meet his heart-broken 
young wife. 

For days he lay upon his bed suffering and bleeding, 
his life hanging upon a thread. My heart went out in 
great pity for this poor fellow, but I was so busy I post- 
poned my visit to his home. In my anxious soul I resolved 
to go. How his eternal interests did prey upon my mind. 
I was oppressed. I trembled at the thought of his death. 
I thought of his soul and heaven. I thought of his soul 
and hell. I wondered if my friend was prepared to die. 
But I never saw him again in life. I lost my opportunity. 
God knows my heart has ached enough since then. Ah, 



SHUT DOORS. 67 

my friend, the ghost of that murdered man haunts me still. 
"Heaven spare you'such a pang, but haste or the door will be 
shut. 

It is sunrise, or sunset; midday or midnight. ' A cry of 
"intolerable anguish is heard; you rush upon the thresh- 
hold; you would tell the old, old story, but a ruined soul 
has passed into eternity. The door is shut. 

3. The open door to sinners. 

These are days of grace, of wondrous mercy. Often, 0, 

" so often, has the sinner done despite to the Holy Spirit. 

He has trampled on God's blessed favors. In his heart he 

hated his Maker and cared not for the Christ of Calvary, 

but all the while God has mercifully kept open the door. 

The sinner lies and steals, but the Master says, "Mercy 
yet." He murders and is covetous, but the door is still 
open. He blasphemes and breaks God's Holy Sabbath. 
He is drunken, vile, unclean, but still he may enter in. 
The door is open to all — the scarlet woman, the man in the 
slums, the devil's castaways. Nothing will shut the door 
but unbelief, and even with this, man's crowning infamy, 
God bears long. 

For a long time God bore with Pharaoh and his hosts, 
but the sea closed in on them at last. 

Many a long year, the wicked Antediluvians mocked 
God and laughed His servant to scorn, but the flood came 
and the cries of despair broke out on the waste of waters. 
The door was shut. 

The rich young ruler had an open door. Christ stood 
before him and gave him the receipt for heaven. He heard 
it and sorrowfully went away. The door was shut. 

Paul stood before King Agrippa pleading, eloquently 



68 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

pleading Jesus. The door was open then, a golden oppor- 
tunity, but like a fool, Agrippa lost it forever. The door 
was shut. 

A poor drunken wretch lay upon a railroad track. In 
the distance' the rumbling of wheels was heard and the 
shrill sound of a whistle. The drunken sleeper was partly 
aroused. "I'll get up in a minute — just a minute," and 
he settled down in slumber again. The great Mogul came 
thundering on round the curve, down the grade with a 
mighty train of cars. It was almost flying, the earth trem- 
bled beneath its ponderous weight. On it went, right on 
like a demon, rounding the curve — the great headlight 
glaring like some infernal monster — 'till crash, crash, 
crash, and all was still, and the sleeper lay a mangled 
corpse beneath the grinding wheels. So many a sinner to- 
day is sleeping before God's Mogul of wrath. Awake, 
awake, clear the track, the death-dealing engine is near at 
hand. A little more slumber and all is over. Now is 
your opportunity. 

The great Mr. Whitfield was preaching one day on ths 
text: "And the Door was Shut." In his audience were 
two very careless and flippant young men. They sat far 
back in the crowd. The speaker was speaking most elo- 
quently on the theme, wlien one of the young men whis- 
pered to the other "well, suppose one door is shut, another 
will open." To be sure Mr. Whitfield heard not the whis- 
pered speech, but the Holy Spirit gave him a message, 
"Well," he thundered, "young man, if another door does 
open, it will be the door that will let you down into hell." 
Those young men blanched as if God, Himself, was speak- 
ing. The whole audience was moved. But I must bring 



SHUT DOORS. 69 

this talk to a close, and may the message burn into your 
hearts. Hear my brief conclusion. The bridegroom tar- 
ried, but He came at midnight. "And they that were 
ready, went in with Him to the marriage, and the door 
was shut." To be shut out of heaven, to be shut in hell is 
agony unspeakable. "Hell is the wrath of God. His hate 
of sin." Flee from it, flee through the open door, which is 
Jesus. And when the door is shut, may you be shut in 
with Him. 



The Desperation of a Sinner, 



"Let us alone. " 
But in all our lives, though time is given us to eat, drink, sleep, 
work and play, there is no moment given us to throw away. — 
Anna Robertson Brown, Ph.D. 

In times when vile men held the high places of the land, a roll 
of drums was employed to drown the martyrs' voices, lest the 
testimony of truth from the scaffold should reach the ears of the 
people — an illustration of how men deal with their own con- 
sciences and seek to put to silence the truth-telling voice of the 
Holy Spirit. — Arnott. 



(70) 



THE DESPERATION OF A SINNER. 71 



VI. 

Yesterday, as I lay upon my cot taking an afternoon 
nap, I fell to dreaming. I stood before a great motly 
crowd preaching the everlasting gospel. Men and women 
sat in their seats with anxious faces, their bodies leaning 
forward toward the speaker, their eyes wildly distended, 
their mouths partly open. They presented so many pic- 
tures of distress. And, strange to relate, they w T ere 
troubled because they thought that they would be forced 
to enter heaven. They cried out in the most pitiable 
tones, in real heart-wailings : "We don't want to go to 
heaven ; O, don't torment us — just let us alone." 

Had you never heard of the place — your heart would 
have gone out in deepest pity for these miserable 
wretches— you would have thought of worse than the 
guillotine and thumb-screws, the rack and the flame. 

Still they cried out : "We don't want to go to heaven, we. 
don't want to go to heaven." Whereupon I replied: "No 
man is forced to enter there. Heaven is a place for willing 
souls alone. Just be quiet, men and women, and be damned, 
and hell will come sure and soon." And would you believe 
it, their cries were more pitiable than before. They were 
not willing to enter heaven, and yet afraid of hell. Dur- 
ing their cries of anguish and the thunder peals of the 
gospel I awoke, and found there was something in a 
dream. 

It is not proclaiming a strange truth, at least to some, 
that the most vigorous efforts of many souls are put forth. 



72 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

to keep out of heaven. Possibly, they would not seriously 
object to going there after death, but they absolutely want 
nothing to do with it while they live. 

To men who have felt the thrill of the better life and 
know the joys of the Christian religion, the conduct of 
wicked men, particularly that of those who tremble at the 
thought of salvation, is inexplicable, save from the stand- 
ard of the deceitf ulness and hardening of sin. 

It is marvelous and lamentable to contemplate how an 
intelligent being will sit under the sound of the gospel, will 
give his intellectual assent to the glorious teachings of the 
Book, know the verities of life and eternity, feel in his 
heart that salvation awaits the believer and damnation 
the unbeliever, and then walk away into the eternal black- 
ness of despair. Sometime ago I asked a young man on 
the streets — a man who had frequently presented himself 
for prayer, if he wanted to — if he really was willing to be 
saved. To this he answered "Xo." Alas ! alas ! men are 
making mock at religion. They are making believe with 
angels and trysting with devils. 

Heaven is so far away and the pleasures of sin so sweet 
that the soul dares to trifle with its God, put off Mercy's 
call and crucify its last opportunity. 

But you are not obliged to repent, nor enter the gates of 
pearl. Just sit still, wait 'till the waters of life run by : 
and in hell you will thirst forever. But this strange and 
abnormal view of life and the beyond is as simple, is as 
foolish as the man wild with delirium tremens, who starts 
and shrieks at the sight of imaginary monkeys and ser- 
pents. Crazed with drink the poor wretch sees hideous 
monsters which no other eye can discover, and hears awful 



THE DESPERATION OF A SINNER. 73 

sounds which no other ear can catch, and feels in his soul 
the flames of hell which do not touch his pitying neighbor. 
So sin acts upon spiritual life. It distorts reason ; it dulls 
sensibilities; it sears conscience; it perverts life, so that 
virtue seems a crime, and crime a virtue, and roses turn 
into thorns and angels into demons. 

SELFloHNESS A GREAT CRIME. 

Is"o one can truly live the better life who clings to the sel- 
fish life. Self must be crucified if one would live with 
'Christ. 

The Master demands that we deny self, take up the daily 
.cross and follow him. Xot to do this is to deny Him. All 
self -centered lives exclude Jesus, and to leave Jesus out of 
the system, out of one's heart, out of one's thoughts, is to 
shut out the real glories of living and shut up the soul to 
meanness, and ultimately to eternal death. The man who 
lives for self lives below the line of sunshine ; lives in such 
a narrow circle, that real heart peace can not enter nor 
peace beyond the grave. He who sets his heart most on 
-self is blind and deaf and dumb and miserable to all other 
wants, all other comforts, all other interests ; and he who 
stoops so low and lives on so mean a plane is prepared when 
'opportunity presents, to steal, to lie, to defame, to murder; 
in a word, to run the gauntlet of crime. Let hell grow 
larger, let heaven grow smaller, let all men perish if only 
self may endure and stand upon the common ruin, it is 
satisfied. The love of the world makes heaven dull. 

The world below and the world above are two distinctly 
opposing forces. Their interests are entirely unlike — un- 
like in purpose, in scope, in satisfaction, in points of dura- 
tion. 



74 ST. pierre's rain of fire. 

Our world promises much, but fulfills little. The soul. 
lays hold upon its pleasures and honors with avidity, with 
great eagerness, clings to these things, as though they could 
perfectly satisfy and satisfy forever. And clinging thus 
to the things of time and sense, the things of a joyous 
eternity and the things of the spirit slip from view. 
Nothing is so enduring as the things invisible and nothing 
so desirable as the bright things eternal. Heaven is not 
so far away from the man who lives not for the world, but 
is infinitely distant from him who sets his heart on the . 
things of life. Pleasures, honors, riches, lust, lewdness and 
all worldly pursuits and conditions tend to contract the 
heart and stupify the soul and satisfy it with the blighting, 
damning sins of the world. A ten cent piece with the 
miser will hide the sun of righteousness. A green leaf 
from the chaplet of earthly honor will outshine all the 
glittering diadems of glory, and one little draught of 
earthly pleasure is sweeter than the cup of salvation with 
the nectar of infinite bliss poured. into it. 

Many years ago a man with his family was traveling 
through the western country seeking a home. They had 
pitched their tents where they expected to camp for a little 
season. 

It was in a beautiful vale where the wild flowers grew 
luxuriously and the rich plumaged birds made the woods- 
vocal with their finest notes and the laughing waters so 
fair and pellucid went murmuring by. The little girl had, 
never seen anything half so beautiful. She sported with 
the breeze, sang with the birds, splashed in the waters,, 
made love to the flowers. 

She came in one day all radiant with pleasure and ex- 



THE DESPERATION OF A SINNER. 75- 

claimed: a O,papa, let's stay here always." To this her 
father replied : "We can't stay here, my child, we are only 
camping out." Would that the children of men might 
know they can't stay here — they are only camping out. 
Let ns therefore touch this old world only lightly. Tarry 
not too long at its springs, nor hug the delusive phantoms 
of hope. The world's fairest flowers are soon perished. 

THE RELIGIOUS LIFE CONFLICTS WITH THE CARNAL LIFE. 

The religious life knows limitations, feels the power of 
divine prohibition, is governed by the highest and holiest 
passions. 

The carnal life thinks on properties, thinks more of the 
opinions of man than the will. of God, has greater regard 
for reputation than character, hates restriction, despises 
God's law and goes as far as it dares in the face of the 
law of man. Lmrestrained by a better heredity and pro- 
pitious environments and a dread of the Maker Himself, 
God only knows the infamies into which the human heart 
would ultimately "plunge. 

But in spite of these thousands and millions of souls are 
reeking in shame, leading the vilest and most dissolute 
lives — in the mansion as well as in the hut. Do not be de- 
ceived, the sleek rascals from the guilded halls are going 
to hell just as fast as the black devils from the filthy hovels. 
: The spiritual life says these glittering bubbles will burst 
after awhile, these honey draughts will turn to wormwood 
and gall, the syren's song ^o sweet to-day will be a dirge 
to-morrow, the green chaplet will soon fade on the victor's' 
brow; this life promises without the ability to fulfill/ 



76 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

glitters without the power to light the weary traveler 
home, hears the cries of distress, sees the breakers ahead, 
knows the danger in wave and wind — feels the thrill of 
heavenly peace as the world is giving away. The carnal 
life says these are not bubbles, and so will not burst; this 
cup of pleasure is full and deep; these sweet songs ravish 
my soul ; these honors and these glories satisfy me. I see no 
danger. I feel no alarm. I hear no wild breakers dash 
- — if there is risk I dare take it. I'll make my "journey 
home. So the carnal life is subject to flattery, to hypoc- 
risy, to lying, stealing, murder; gloats in the gambler's 
hell, revels in the wine cup, stalks in scarlet robes, blas- 
phemes like a fool, lives like a fool, dies like a fool, and 
goes to hell like a fool. 

HEAVED THE LAST THOUGHT OF A DESPERATE SIGNER. 

Suddenly or early to come into the Christian religion 
is_ regarded; by the desperate sinner as a great hardship— £ 
real calamity. 

Young life is so buoyant, so hopeful, so set on business 
or pleasure that it really hasn't the time nor inclination 
for anything so dull or distant or unimportant as heaven. 

Heaven and religious thoughts are regarded as great 
barriers to business pursuits and the enjoyments of the 
soul. 

Indeed a pious life is thought of as a curse rather than 
a blessing. 

The meeting house, the song service, the solemn ser- 
mon, the minister and all are looked upon as real hind- 
rances to commerce and the happiness of society. Why 
give one's self over to the tears of repentance and to 



THE DESPERATION OF A SINNER. 77 

serious reflections while the ball-room is so gay and the 
wine cup so sparkling and the fleshly life so voluptuous ? 

With the desperate sinner the higher, nobler life leads tx> 
disappointments, sadness, poverty. He associates the 
Christian religion with tears and heartaches and death and 
coffin and shroud and grave and tombstone. 

If these awful things must come, reasons the foolish souL 
let them come when the step is feeble and the locks are gray 
and there be no more heart nor power for glittering, fleet- 
ing things of earth. 

Notwithstanding the good book says: "Seek ye first 
the kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these- 
things shall be added unto you." And again : "Seek ye* 
the Lord while He may be found — call ye upon Him while 
He is near," the poor soul intoxicated by sin says: "Not 
now; if I ever seek it will be when I am old, when the 
pleasures of this old world have no further charms for 
me." 

So the poor fool puts off the preparation day — waits 'till 
he is old — waits 'till Jesus of Nazareth passes by — waits 
'till the gates of pearl closes forever. 

FURTHER DESPERATION OF THE SINNER. 

The desperate sinner, as far as possible, removes him- 
self from the society of good men and women. He love& 
society, talks much about it, but it is the society of sinners 
of the w r icked ones of earth — religious souls are dull and 
he chafes under the sermon, and the minister is too pious 
or he is insincere. Good people are bores and the thought 
of heaven gives pain. The dance house is preferred to 
the meeting house of the saints, the theatre to the cottage* 



78 ST. pieree's RAitf of fire. 

prayer-meeting, the drunken revel to the Lord's Supper, 
vulgar speech and obscene pictures to tender words- of 
prayer and visions of the glory world. 

Preach to him: "Ye must be born again/' and the pain 
lie feels is almost infinite. Pray over him and your words 
are as mockery and he laughs at you and longs intensely 
to be gone. Try as best you may to lead the poor soul to 
God and he chafes and squirms as though heaven were 
the most accursed place of the eternal. It is as though one 
put honey before a hungry man and he dipped into vine- 
gar, or offered the thirsty man cold water and he gulped 
down hemlock. Poor soul, be not so foolish, be not so 
desperate — drink not the deadly draught. To thy lips it 
may be sweet, but to thy soul it will prove the very bitter- 
ness of death. 

A child throws a bank account away and picks up a 
flower— quite so the sinner tosses heaven aside and clings 
to the perishing things of earth. 

AX IMPORTANT QUESTION. 

But .the sinner may say, why call me desperate? "Well, 
we will not be too hard on you, for we know you have been 
hardened by sin and hypnotized by Satan, but as best we 
can, let us reason together. Are not men born to die ? 
Do they not die? How many living to-day one hundred 
years old? Very few. How many at the age of one hun- 
dred and fifty ? Any ? Let some one answer. Surely the 
millions and billions of earth here two hundred years ago 
have gone — the millions one hundred years ago have gone. 
A little over a hundred years to come not a soul of the bil- 
lions now on earth will be left. All praisers, all blasphem- 



THE DESPERATION OF A SINNER. 79 

•ers, all the King's children, all the heirs of hell will have 
passed. How wonderful, how pitiful is the story, but how 
true ! Every voice will be hushed — every heart will be 
still. It was so from the first. The Antediluvians with 
the flying centuries are piling up. The Ptolemys, the 
Pharaohs, the Alexanders, the Csesars and all the proud 
iuonarchs of the Old World have passed and are passing. 
Kingdoms and dynasties are perishing, thrones are crum- 
bling, crowns are fading and death, that ruthless and de- 
' structive reaper, "is mowing down all things in his march. 
Proud ' sinner, how think you to escape ? Any favors 
with the conqueror death ? Any lease on life ? If so, how 
long ? And then, when the lease is out, what then ? Death, 
death. Poverty will not exempt. Riches will not buy 
favor. Honors will perish like bubbles. Death marks the 
high and the low. 

ANOTHER IMPORTANT QUESTION. 

But how will man spend the days that are going by ? 

It is worth while to mark time — to think seriously. 

Can man, by thought or deed, change his state here or 
hereafter ? All men die — the sinner dies. But what does 
that mean ? Let God, the Maker, answer. "And after death 
the judgment.*' All shall appear before the judgment seat 
of Christ! Again: "Every one shall give an account of 
the deeds done in his own body.'" 

"There is no repentance in the grave." 

As a man goes out of the world so he shall enter the 
world to come. As he lives in time so shall he spend 
eternity. Can a man change his condition ? Well, by his 



80 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

perverseness, by Lis desperate resistance, by bis stolid in- 
difference, bis condition may never be changed. 

"Prepare to meet thy God." 

"Except ye repent ye sball all likewise perish." 

A man cannot save hirnself, but be can fulfill the con- 
ditions of salvation — "Whosoever shall call upon the name 
of the Lord shall be saved." Surely any poor wretch can 
call for help. Any lost soul can cry to its Savior. Oh, is 
it not important — of the utmost importance — that the 
soul should prepare for the great beyond. The end of this 
life is heaven or hell, and in either case eternity. 

!N"ow is it not desperation of the wildest sort to live and 
die without God, to put off the plastic hours of youth, to 
go through the sturdy years of manhood, to come dowa to 
decrepid old age and still push heaven away, saying, 
"wait, wait !" \ 

Sinner, life is uncertain but death is sure. At this hour 
your shroud may be made, the last nail driven in your 
coffin, and the horses and hearse standing ready to bear 
thy poor dust to the grave. Eternal issues may hang on 
this very hour. Be wise. Take Jesus to-night. Be not so 
desperate as to fling thy poor soul away. God help you 
now. 



■BIBLE- PROMISE. 



"'And the "ransomed "of the Lord shall return, and come to 
Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads : they shall 
obtain* joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away." 



(81) 



The Holiness of Joy. 



" There is as much religion in a laugh as in a groan, in a smile 
as in a tear." 

He will weave no longer a spotted life of shreds and patches, 
but he will live with a divine unity. He will cease from what is 
base and frivolous in his life, and be content with all places, and 
with any service he can render. He will calmly front the morrow 
in the negligence of that trust that carries God with it, and so 
hath dread of the whole future in the bottom of the heart. — R. W. 
Emerson. 

He who believes in God is not careful for the moment, but labors 
joyfully and with a great heart, " For He giveth His beloved, as 
in sleep." 

They must work and watch, yet never be careful or anxious, but 
commit all to Him, and live in serene tranquility ; with a quiet 
heart, as one who sleeps safely and quietly. — Martin Luther. 



(82) 



THE HOLINESS OF JOY. 



VII. 

Editorial from Atlanta Constitution. 

The holiness of joy was never better presented than in 
the second sermon preached last night upon the subject 
by Rev. J. C. Solomon, of the Woodward Avenue Baptist 
•church. 

To those who read the scriptures carefully it is not 
necessary to recall the fact that the patriarchs were men 
who believed in the fullness of enjoyment. They did not 
hesitate to hold a feast upon proper occasion and to enter- 
tain a stranger in a manner to comfort his heart. It is 
somewhat a new idea to associate dyspepsia with religion, 
and it is against this growing inclination that Mr. Solo- 
mon protests. He would lead men by love to accept the 
higher ideals without an unnecessary threat to their fears. 
He would make the church a place of companionship and 
comradeship, where men, clasping hands, could feel that 
their brotherhood was one of fact and not of theory. 

In taking this stand Mr. Solomon calls for optimism in 
religion. He truly feels that the majority of men are not 
bent upon self-destruction, though they may often make 
missteps, but that they are willing to reach forward and 
«dasp the hand extended to lift them up and to point out 
to them the right way. 

TVe cannot but feel that in this presentation of the holi- 
ness of joy of the place which it occupies in the develop- 
ment of religious feeling that Mr. Solomon has done a 
great service, and that he will become a great leader of 
men if he keeps up this method of presentation. 



84 st. Pierre's rain of fire. 

"I would not have my position misconstrued to-night* 
I desire to be understood by the dullest listener here. A 
good time in the world is not contradictory to the teach- 
ings of Jesus Christ, It is the outcome, yea, the logical 
sequence of the gospel. I believe as heartily as any of 
you, my friends, in salvation by grace, in a genuine repent- 
ance — in faith in God. Yes, I believe in blood religion,, 
but— 

" 'Religion never was designed to make our pleasures 
less.' 

"Were I to ask you what is the chief end of man, per- 
haps no two answers would be returned alike, but ex* 
pressed or implied, his happiness w T ould be involved. 

"Some one might say: 'Man's great purpose and mis- 
sion in the world is to be good and to do good; to glorify 
God ;' but I would not say man was made by an all-wise 
Creator and placed in this beautiful world simply to have 
a dull time. Whether saint or sinner, great or small, a 
merciful and loving God has purposed that you get good 
out of life and put good in life and make the world better,; 
brighter, gladder. 

"A pauper out of hell may rejoice as well as a prince.. 
A bootblack who does his duty is as honorable as the gov- 
ernor of the State, and being honorable, can afford to 
rejoice. Why should he be sad. King Edward has no 
more right from God and England to be happy than- the' 
rosy-cheeked boy who wades the streams or climbs the 
mountains. The ragged urchin on the streets may laugh, 
'the man with the hoe' may sing as well as mop his brow, 
and the light-hearted lad behind the plow may -whistle- 
or speak the poetry of his soul to the upturned daisies as* 



• -THE HOLINESS OR JOY. 85 

lie makes his honest furrows. The gladness of heart — the 
rosy dream of life — is the heritage of heaven. Who is so 
base as to take this crown away I 

"But let us note some of the most prominent reasons 
for many of the churches being shorn of their strength., 
Why are there so many empty sanctuaries ? What has 
given the people, especially the young people, such a dis- 
taste for places of public worship ? Why, I believe with 
all toy heart that too many preachers are dishing out dry 
theology and delivering polished prayers to the faithful 
few, too sleepy to hear, and to God, who is- disgusted with 
dead formalities and meeting house rot. The w r orld needs 
the rich, warm blood of Jesus. Xo theology, dry like 
rattling bones, can be its substitute.- When a man is 
dying with thirst, give him no rounded periods, no beauti- 
ful paintings. The richest museum in the world cannot 
satisfy him. He needs water — the fresh sparkling water 
from the fountain of life. 

"If your child is drowning shall I, with great pains and 
■skill, first secure appliances approved by the masters be- 
fore I put forth an effort to save him, or shall I sit on the 
bank and sing some up-to-date classical music and bid him 
be landed ? No ; I will be no such fool, but I will plunge 
in, clothes and all, and drag the precious fellow ashore. 
If your baby is in a burning building, would you sit down 
and discuss the origin of the fire or argue the necessity 
for a better fire organization in the town-, or comment on 
the sublimity of the scene? Nci-; though your life be in 
jeopardy, you will rush in smoke and fire and seize the 
child. Yet some preachers sport with the flames of hell 
and draw pictures of exquisite beauty. Why, I heard of 



86 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

a preacher once who, with his sweet, flexible voice and 
flowing rhetoric, painted hell so beautifully that when he 
had finished, his auditors all wanted to go there. Let the 
pulpit be honest with the pew. Let men speak plain words 
to plain men. People are tired of essays and bouquets 
from the pulpit, of light rolls and puffs, of frills and trim- 
mings. It is a shame to feed a fellow on air and clothe 
him Avith a rainbow when his soul is starving and he is 
naked before God. Now let us deal fairly with a hungry 
people, with perishing souls. Let us preach hell but 
'never/ as one has said, 'except with tears in your eyes or 
heart.' Then the world wants to know about heaven. 
Many a poor heart has had enough of hell already. Dwell 
on the love of God. The wounded need healing. The sick 
need a cordial. The dying need Jesus. Show them the 
Savior and then their gloom will be lifted and their sor- 
rows will fly away. 

"When men get on fire for souls and their hearts melt 
with pity, then will the sanctuaries begin to fill and the 
good old times return. The pulpit ought to be a light- 
house and not a dungeon, an inspiration and not a cold 
douche. Let there go from it no whinings, no croakings,. 
no calamity howls. Point men upward — paint heaven 
with all the enraptured beauty of God's unspeakable love. 
Girt the pulpit with more than rainbow glory. Crown it 
with the promises of the Almighty. Make it sing with the 
gladness of hope. Illumine every heart with the confisca- 
tions of heavenly optimism. Make the world glad with 
the gospel of peace. 

"Again, too many of our churches are religious refrig- 
erators. Peal chilly sensations creep up and down a 



THE HOLINESS OF JOY. 87 

stranger's vertebral column. He is ill at ease. He feels 
that lie is in the wrong pew. He wants to go home. No- 
body smiles upon him ; no one gives him a friendly hand- 
shake; nobody welcomes him nor bids him come again. 
He comes and goes unobserved or stared at. Suffering he 
endures the service, but registers a vow that from hence- 
forth he will seek a more genial clime. Why, he declares, 
there is a finer fellowship in the saloon, for the saloon 
smiles upon its patrons and is good mannered enough to 
ask you to come again. Is it any wonder that our parks 
and suburban resorts and soda founts and street cars and 
barrooms and gambling rinks and many hellholes in our 
cities are crowded when so many of the churches are open 
and reverberate with the voices of a lonesome few ? With 
such treatment our schools, and even our homes, would 
suffer. Would they not go to pieces ? 

"A cold and heartless preacher has given many a fine 
fellow a good start for the lower w r orld, and unsympa- 
thetic, sour-visaged old deacons have driven the young 
people away from the churches and shut the door of heaven 
in their faces. Men and women are hungry for sympathy 
and sigh for fellowship. Their souls cry out for joy and 
for the sunshine of life, and if their longings be not satis- 
fied in our homes and our churches, be not surprised to 
find them at the bucket shops or turf exchange or barroom, 
or the shameless house or even in hell, for all these roads 
lead to the bottomless pit. 

"You dare not quench the little stars that shine out in 
childhood or youth, lest you put out their light forever. 
Close not the mouth of innocent laughter, lest when that 
mouth should open again it should pour forth lamenta- 



1&8 st.v pierre's rain : of: fire. 

tion-s and dirges. You can't put an old- head on young 
■shoulders. You can't put a fifty year-old heart in- a fif- 
teen year-old bbdy. You can't put young, people r in an 
ecclesiastical strait-jacket. They will break away from 
yoiiy and they ought. The world is too large and beauti- 
ful, and pleasures are running riot, and our sons and 
daughters are reapers. Mirth bubbles up naturally from 
: a f ull young heart, and laughter and singing spring forth 
•from a happy life. Will you blot out this sunshine let down 
fty aTMaster's hand ? Will you dash the hallelujah of this 
-beautiful old world with grating sounds and croaking of the 
meanest pessimism ? Will you turn God's own light-houses 
into spiritual dungeons ? Oh, let us not do so. We need 
%d monasteries — the devil and the monks are welcome to 
thesei The human heart is tired of cold formalities and 
the glittering ritualism of a dead church. Forms and 
styles and airy nothingness do not satisfy the soul all 
fcuised with sin and hungry for fellowship. Strew them 
with flowers and sing real hymns of praise, no dirges. If 
you want to cry for joy, cry. If you want to shout, shout. 
If a hearty laugh will do thy soul good, why, there is no 
prohibition against it in all God's word. In a stilted 
church in \N~ew York a dear old lady plainly clad rose up 
bne day fairly shouting for joy, whereupon a stern officer 
of that august organization promptly arrested her, in- 
quiring, -'What does this mean ?' To this the rejoicing 
saint replied: 'I've got religion.' 'We don't allow that 
in this church,' growled the proud official. Now, in the 
name of common sense, if our churches be not for the eul- 
tivation of religious life; indeed, if thev be" not real fac- 
tories for making joy and sunshine for- the world, and 



THE DESPERATION OF A SINNER. 89 

weaving garments of beauty and righteousness, then why 
the churches ? 

"There is as much religion in a laugh as in a groan, in 
a smile as in a tear. Our houses of worship were never 
meant to be places of sighings and pinings and everlasting 
fault-finding. There is more religion and sense for a 
happy, truthful soul cm a tennis-gourt than . listening to a 
soporific preacher in a, "sweat-box physically;^ 

"If we catch and hold-tfae^people against the world, the 
flesh- and * the devil, we must awake to the needs of the 
hour arid make home :and: church .and /Christian life so 
real, so beautiful^ so joyous, so heavenly that the devil and 
his emissaries cannot match them. When we make our 
religion hopeful and .cordial; when we convince, men we 
love them; when we teach the young, ii. is. not a. sin. to 
laugh and to romp, then will the eross.be more attractive 
^nd the world bloom- forth with ^fairer and sweeter 
flowers."' : ... :::i ;.-. : „.; ;. ..;..-. . . .: ; 



Thronging and Touching. 



Mark 5 : 24-34. 
And every common bush aflame with God, 
But only he who sees takes off his shoes. 

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 

One day I was sitting in a dark omnibus. A man came in to* 
examine our tickets, and I thought to myself, you will never be 
able to tell whether they have been punctured aright. As I 
watched, curious to notice, he touched a little spring in his breast ;. 
in a tiny globe of glass a beautiful glow of electric light shone 
out. Manifestly the man could see anywhere, because he carried 
the light with which he saw. So we must understand that when 
the heart is full of God, you will find God anywhere and every- 
where, as the miner carries the candle in his cap through the dark- 
cavity of the earth, and lights his steps. — F. B. Meyer. 



(»0) 



THRONGING AND TOUCHING. 91 



VIII. 

One of the rulers of the Synagogue, Jairus, besought 
Jesus, falling at His feet, to go with him to heal his des- 
perately sick child. Jesus was en route to the ruler's 
home. And as He went a s;reat crowd surged about Him. 
Some doubtless were hungry and were following the Christ 
if happily He might perform some miracle and give them 
bread. Possibly some were following Him with a hope 
that they might find cause for accusation against Him, 
for He was in the midst of His enemies as well as friends. 
Again some were just lookers-on — an idle, curious, aim- 
less crowd. To be sure His disciples were there and quite 
conspicuous, but they were ignorant of much of the power 
of the Christ-life. They did not understand their Master. 
He was constantly doing things that startled them. 

But wherever He went he drew the crowds. "He could 
not be hid." Little children would gladly, joyously come 
into His presence. How they loved Him and how He 
loved them. The fine lady and the scarlet woman, the 
gentleman and the vagabond, the high and the low, the 
good and the bad, everywhere followed Him. The crowds 
would throng Him, so that it was said of Him that "the 
whole world is gone after Him." On this occasion there 
was a remarkable press of humanity. The people thronged 
Him and surged about Him like the restless sea, so that 
it would have been curious, almost phenomenal, had no one 
in that vast multitude come in bodily contact with Jesus. 
A poor woman, miserable and afflicted and destitute, hav- 
ing a bloody issue for twelve years and having narrowly 



& 2 BT.= PIERRE'S RAIN OF FIRE. 

escaped with her life out of the hands of many physicians, 
came to Jesus. Isow I am *nok going to throw off on the 
physicians — God bless the* profession — God bless the wise, 
consecrated, sacrificing physicians,:: of times angels of 
mercy in. the sick room- — benedictions in the land, but 
there are too many charletans.and quacks. The afflicted 
poor may tremble at the tread of the impostors. 

She said, "If I may but touch His clothes I shall be 
whole." f! i 

"And straightway the fountain of her • blood was . dried 
up and she felt in her body that she was healed of the 
plague." 5 Wonderful faith.- wonderful cure ! She. touched 
and was healed. _She believed and the blood was dried up. 
isow, it was not her. faith that cured her "of the bloody 
issue, for at other times she may have had, and doubtless 
did, great confidence in the many physicians who treated 
her, but instead of getting better she steadily grew worse. 
It was not therefore her faith that cured her, but the 
object of her faith. All depends upon what we believe and 
whom we trust. 

. A poor fellow believed in Iris guide — thought he w r as 
taking him away from danger to his own f riends> but alas ! 
he was delivered into the hands of his enemies, and was 
,there murdered. His faith had sustained him and was 
all along very comforting but at last cost him his life 
blood. 
- We learn some valuable lessons from this story . 

1. The Savior is never too bus v -to do good. On this 
very occasion he was going, and possibly in haste, to cure 
& little maid who was desperately ill. That home circle 
was in great distress. Loved ones were wringing their 



THRONGING AND TOUCHING. 9$ 

hands and weeping over the precious child slowly sinking. 
They saw the palor spread over her cheeks. They saw 
the death glaze in her eye. They heard the rattle in her 
throat. The finest physicians had been called in. The 
best remedial agencies had failed. They hear of Jesus. 
He is sent for in haste. He is on His w r ay, but stops to 
bless an afflicted and much abused woman. When in; 
Simon's house preaching to a dense 'audience, the people 
crowded the doors and windows, the roof was torn open 
and a paralytic was let down in the midst of the multitude, 
and Jesus stopped preaching and healed the unfortunate. 

When poor Mary and Martha were w r eeping all broken- 
hearted, straining their eyes for a glimpse of the Master,, 
as their poor brother lay near death's door, Jesus tarried 
to heal other bleeding hearts and scatter blessings where; 
curses grew. As he was passing on to Jericho, blind Bar- 
timeus cried out: "Thou Son of David have mercy on 
me." Again he cried aloud for help. Jesus stopped and 
healed him. He was never in a hurry when suffering 
humanity appealed for help. Fatigue was never so great 
and sleep never so sweet, that He did riot rise up and give 
comfort to saddened and bruised hearts. You remember 
when the blessed Master, tired from the day's toil, and' 
overcome with slumber, lay; asleep in the back part of the 
boat, the disciples, alarmed by the raging tempest, came to 
Him and awoke Him, saying, "Lord save us ; we perish.": 
What did He do ? "He arose and rebuked the winds and 
the sea; and there was a great calm." 

Oh, friends — troubled souls — think it not a tax on the? 
blessed Lord nor a trial of His patience to pile all your 
burdens on Him, If vou need Pliin do not hesitate to call 



94 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

on Him. Take all your sins and sicknesses and sorrows to 
Him. He loves you, dear heart, and will never be too busy 
nor too tired to give you a blessing. 

2. The Savior is always approachable. He never goes 
on stilts. He is a friend to the poor. He sympathizes with 
the sorrowful. He binds up the broken-hearted. He is 
touched with our infirmities. He is never stiff nor proud 
nor repulsive. He is not at all exclusive. He is not shut 
up to a few lords and earls and masters. The rich and 
the great have no monopoly on His time nor His blood. 
The meanest slave can claim His presence and His power. 

Every ostracised soul, every prodigal son, every miser- 
able outcast may feel perfectly comfortable in His pres- 
ence. The brilliant trapping of state — the painful cere- 
monies, the cold formal etiquette of society, the danger 
and cruelty of snubbing; — but no such exactions demanded 
by Jesus, no such dangers in approaching Him. 

The master and the slave are on the same footing before 
Christ. No difference between king and peasant. 

The Savior has no spells of melancholy — is not morose 
nor moody — is waiting to be sought after. Yea, is seeking 
after you. He stands in the midst of the camp. Is now 
before the door of your heart. Friend, you need no intro- 
duction. Your sins and sufferings commend you to Him. 
You need no state robe, no spotless gown, no badge of dis- 
tinction, simply a consuming desire to come into His pres- 
ence and to know Him. He is able. He is willing. He 
invites you. Riches will not buy His favor. Rags will 
not exclude you. 

3. Those who simply throng Jesus lose a gracious op- 
portunity always. A great motley crowd thronged Him at 



THRONGING AND TOUCHING. 95 

the sycamore tree, but only one soiil saved. Many were 
following after Him, but only the blind beggar received 
his sight. Thousands were in the press at the fish and loaf 
miracle and no spiritual feast. The hungry crowd simply 
thronged Him. Thousands and millions of earth's be- 
nighted inhabitants know nothing of Jesus theoretically 
nor historically. He comes not into their thoughts, for 
they have never heard that there was a Savior ; poor, miser- 
able Christless heathens! But here in Christian America, 
right here in Atlanta, this great city of churches, thous- 
ands of precious souls are losing opportunities daily of 
ever knowing Jesus. It is true He is not far away, right 
here in our midst, so close indeed that the poor wretched, 
ruined sinner has but to reach forth his hand and have the 
bloody issue of his sins all dried up. Just an arm's length 
off ? and yet, my friend, if this little span is not compassed 
the distance will be as high as heaven, as deep as hell — "so 
near and yet so far." Many souls here this morning may 
be standing at the pearly gates. I must believe there are 
some here almost in the kingdom, but what matters it if at 
last from a glimpse of His face and the sound of His 
voice and the glow of His ministry, you drop into the pit? 
What's the matter ? Why this dearth of salvation ? Why, 
the people are simply thronging and not touching Jesus. 

' HOW THE PEOPLE THROM HIM. 

1. They throng Him by gathering about schools and 
churches. 

There is a certain charm and magnetism about school 
buildings and churches that even the unrighteous would 
not part with it. A poor log school house, or the common- 



96 st. pierre's rain of fire; 

est place where the saints worship, is far niore attractive 
to the multitudes than the Savior Himself. A story* is 
told of the frontiers. Many years ago as the tide of emi- 
gration began to turn toward the west the people desired 
a place of worship in that wild and unsettled country. So 
a petition was put in circulation looking toward the erec- 
tion of a house of worship. Many had signed it, pledging 
small contributions, when a gentleman not a Christian sub- 
scribed $300.00. He was asked if he had not made a mis- 
take, the sum was so large. He replied: "No." On being 
questioned as to his liberality, he replied: "I have a 
great deal of property in this vicinity and this is a business 
stroke with me, for schools and churches ahvays enhance 
values." He w r as thronging Christ — following Him for 
loaves and fishes. Strike down every school house and 
church building in Atlanta to-day and see how long before 
«ir business men (and men, too, who know no Savior) 
would vacate and seek for other cities holding these blessei 
institutions. 

They know these civilizing and Christianizing factors 
bring trade, bring the people, bring business. So the w^rid 
to-day, as it has ever done, is thronging Christ — making 
merchandise out of Christianity. How men cling to the 
casket and leave untouched the precious jewel. They make 
more of the cerements of death than life itself. Children 
will often run away with pretty wrappings and, care 
naught for the valuable contents. Why did not the rabble 
gamble over the, Saviors, coat and go away unforgiven? 
They thought more of a garment than of heaven. Throng- T 
ing, only thronging. 

2. They throng Him in the sanctuary. 



THRONGING AND TOUCHING. 97 

Thousands of poor souls are flocking to the house of God. 
They are not hungry ; they have not the slightest appetite. 
Spiritual food is repulsive to them, they loath it. They 
have never cared to sit down to such a table. They will 
not eat for they are full. Heaven's richest cordial has no 
charm for them. The limpid waters of life may splash in 
their faces and yet they do not tempt, What's the trouble ? 
Has the Son of God nothing good enough for a poor lost 
sinner? 'No; the sinner — the multitude of sinners — that 
throng our sanctuaries and throng our Savior will not 
drink, for they are not thirsty. The world's cup satisfies 
them. Is chaff better than wheat? Is wormwood better 
than honey ? Is dross more valuable than gold ? Is hell 
to be preferred to heaven? Lost soul answer these ques- 
tions. Thronging is no solution. Go closer than that. Go 
right up to Jesus, 

Oh, I have seen the surging crowds right in this place* 
I have seen you more than once throng the Lord — pack 
this house. Did any virtue go out of Him ? Did you feel 
the giving away of your shackles of sin ? Did a keen thrill 
of joy pierce your heart? Did you feel the inflowing 
virtue in your soul ? Were you healed ? You answer me 
"K"o." Why not ? Because you were a thronger, not a 
toucher — loitering, dreaming, aimless. Ton have no mis- 
sion, no heartfelt desire to see and know Jesus, Tou came 
in w r ith the crowd. Tou came to see what would happen. 
Dear soul, you have been running with the crowd too long 
already. For years you have been thronging Jesus and 
are growing worse. 

Last summer when I was in New Tork pressing here 
and there through the great throng, I was lonesome and 



98 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

had a real homesickness, wanted to see my loved ones in 
the Southland, wanted to talk with Jesus. ISTow come out 
from the crowd ; press through and touch Jesus. 

3. Touching. 

It may be a touch in a crowd. How overwhelming is 
a crowd. How embarrassing. How hard to face. You 
may steal up to Christ in the night. You may find Him 
when you are alone with no eye to behold you and no hand 
to hinder. Nicodemus sought Christ at night and alone. 
Of course no one knew why he approached the Savior at 
that hour, but we must conclude he dared not face a 
crowd, he feared the critic and scoffer. To be sure salva- 
tion is salvation and is as sure and sweet when found alone 
and in the dark as in the midst of a throng and in the glare 
of day, but to Avin heaven — to find eternal life you may 
have to elbow your way through the crowd. It may be 
your only chance. Your last opportunity to find Him. 
Sometimes He may pass your way alone. At other times 
He may come with the multitude. You can't tell when 
He may pass your way the last time. I believe Bartimeus 
had his last opportunity. I believe Zacheus had his last op- 
portunity. I believe the woman of our text had her last op- 
portunity. This may be yours — its an awful thought. It 
makes me sick at heart to think of Jesus passing you by. 
The crowd may laugh and jeer and mock, but step forward, 
push your enemies aside and touch Jesus. Touch Him 
this morning and feel the healing, thrilling virtue of a 
heavenly presence. For a touch in a crowd is as good as 
a long embrace all alone with Him. You must touch Him 
or there's no healing. 

1. The most timid may touch Him. This seems to be a 



THRONGING AND TOUCHING. 99 

world in which the survival of the fittest prevails and men 
have declared: "To the victor belongs the spoils." The 
timid, shrinking mortal is at a great disadvantage in this 
busy, mercenary world of ours. Brass often outstrips 
brains and walks away with the trophy. There is a wild, 
mad rush for dollars and position, and in the scramble the 
timid are easily pushed aside. The cold mercantile life 
is no respecter of persons — cares naught for the timid and 
the retiring ; the bold, the daring, easily forge to the front, 
but is there no sympathy, no help, no brother's hand for the 
poor fellow that trembles ? See his whole frame is in a 
quiver; his feet are staggering; his face is blanched with 
dread. He has not the courage of his fellows, the daring 
and ofttimes heartless throngers that surge around the 
Christ, but he feels his need. He knows there is something 
that is lacking, something beyond him, something for 
which his heart sighs. The crowd overshadows him, awes 
him. lie shrinks from public gaze. He is lost in a crowd 
and is unhappy — no help and no fellowship. He longs for a 
sight and a touch of the Son of God. Is there such a soul 
here this morning? Are you fearful? Do you stand 
trembling and doubting? Tremble no more; doubt no 
more. Do not be afraid. Jesus says, "It is I." Then 
come. Critics and scoffers and hypocrites and the curious 
and foolish disciples and mountains of difficulties may 
stand in your way, but after all, you are not far away 
from Jesus. The world may trample you underfoot; the 
brazen may make you crouch in fear ; the tyrant may bind 
you in chains, but "a bruised reed shall He not break, and 
smoking flax He shall not quench." Say to them that are 
of a fearful heart, "be strong, fear not." 

LofC. 



100 st. pierre's rain of fire, 

i have seen many a timid girl with face almost as white 
as death, but hungering for soul-healing, press through the 
crowd to touch Christ. Poor timid shrinking girls have a 
hard time to get along in the world — so much opposition 
and competition and criticism and heartlessness — cruel 
insinuations and dangerous snares ; I tremble for you, I 
sympathize with you but Jesus stands for your safety. He 
is ready to deliver you. 

Is there a dear woman in this presence who trembles 
not only in her timidity, but in her soul guiltiness ? Have 
you been all these years an unbeliever, a poor lost sinner '( 
Well, it is enough to make you tremble, but remember His 
hand is stretched out still. Come to Him, dear soul — come 
this minute ; shut your eyes to the crow T d, the crowd is not 
your friend — look alone to Jesus and touch the nail prints 
in His hand. 

2. The disabled, the cripple, the invalid may touch 
Him. 

How I sympathize with the soul that is hedged in, cut 
off from society, shut out of the sanctuary, shut up to 
days and nights of loneliness and pain and longing. Ye1 
is this class not nearer heaven than they that walk the 
streets or Sabbath after Sabbath attend the house of 
prayer ? Sometimes our largest opportunities and greatest 
resources prove our worst enemies and surest defeats. Let. 
us not too strongly deprecate the condition of the invalid 
or lone]y sufferer. After all he may be in the surest place 
and resting on the easiest bed. Yet the bed of pain and 
the invalid's room is not always as lonely as one might 
suppose. ".For here as in the busy outside world the crowd 
gathers which quite shuts out the view of the Master, not 



THRONGING AND TOUCHING. 101 

a crowd of babbling, scoffing mortals, but an army of 
doubts and fears, and sin and a wasted life make a throng 
blacker than midnight, harder than adamant and greater 
in number than the flying swallows. 

But courage, soul, my suffering friend, be brave. On 
your hobbling crutch you may yet find your way to Jesus. 
From your bed of invalidism you may tread the sure path 
to health. Christ is nearer than you think. He is even at 
your side. If your soul is set on heavenly healing you 
can make your passage. Just make a step, reach out your 
hand, it may be in the dark, but every foe shall stand 
back; the motley crowd shall give way — you shall touch 
Him and be healed. 

3. The most abandoned may touch Him. 

My poor soul has gotten much from the couplet : 

w> As long as the lamp holds out to burn 
The vilest sinner may return." 

The love of God is as big as the world; no soul can out- 
weigh His passion and His incomparable tragedy. 

If He saved a thief while He Himself was dying, can 
not He now at the right hand of glory cleanse the foulest 
heart ? "God so loved the world that He gave His only 
begotten Son that whosoever believeth on Him should not 
perish, but have everlasting life." The °x)od ? Xo. The 
ordinary sinner ? Xo. The respectable ? No. The 
moral ? Xo. But the whosoever, in any place, in any age, in 
any condition. "Look unto Me all ye ends of the earth 
and be ye saved for I am God, and besides jle there is 
none other. " Does this mean the fine lady ? Yes. The 
fine gentleman ? Yes. The precious child ? Yes. The 



102 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

noble hearted ? Yes. But more — it means the drunkard, 
the blasphemer, the scarlet woman, the infidel. Ah! it- 
means you, poor wretch ; and you, poor lost soul ; and you, 
outcast; and you, red-handed murderer; and you, vile sin- 
ner with crimes and shame of many years haunting you like 
so many ghosts. Your sins, I know, run very far, but they 
cannot go further than the ends of the earth. They may go 
very high, but God's mercy goes beyond the heights. They 
may go to the deepest depths, but His pardoning love can 
go deeper still. "Where sin doth abound, grace doth much 
more abound." 

A poor fallen woman long steeped in sin and abandoned 
by her friends, was one day arrested on the streets for 
some crime. She was carried to the prison and locked up. 
A sweet Christian woman called, entered the cell where 
the poor wretch lay and putting her arms about her, kissed 
her on the cheek, and then told her about the love of God. 
It broke her heart, and as the tears streamed down her 
face she said, ''That is the first kiss I've had since my 
mother died." Then she was pressed by the throng of all 
the sins of her ruined life, but she made her way to Christ, 
touched Him and was forgiven. Do not despair — there is 
a rift in the cloud — deliverance is near. You may be 
friendless and homeless, without reputation, without 
character, all polluted and despicable, but Jesus came to 
save such as you. So up with your shame and crime and 
make for Christ. Though ten thousand throngers may 
intervene, press on and press through, and though your 
sins be as scarlet Jesus shall make them white as snow. 

4. He may be touched now. 

The poor deluded soul says "no." He cannot be- 



THRONGING AND TOUCHING. 103 

lieve so great a victory can be won so speedily. God is not 
so good, and heaven is so high. Sins are too many and the 
task is too great. The unbeliever must be a long time in 
believing; the sinner must be a long time in repenting. 
More prayers must be said; more tears must be shed and 
you are waiting to grow better. Let me tell you, man, you 
are cheating yourself out of heaven. You are shutting the 
door against your own soul. Your action is mockery to 
God, an insult to the Holy Spirit. God says, "Now is the 
day of salvation. " You say, "Not so; another day will do 
as well." He says, "Choose ye this day whom ye will 
serve." You say, "I can't," "To-day if you hear my 
voice harden not your heart." Yon say, "I'll settle this 
to-morrow." So the days and weeks go by and the harden- 
ing process goes on, and yonr sins pile up and new diffi- 
culties arise. Still the Spirit cries, "Now, now." He is 
passing with the crowd — press forward, or you'll never 
reach Him. Touch Him, touch Him now and the self- 
same moment your sin-sick soul shall bo healed. 



The Blotting Out of Transgressions. 



I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine 
own sake, and will not remember thy sins. Is. 43 : 25. 

Look at that Roman soldier as he pushed his spear into the very 
heart of the Godman. What a hellish deed! But what was the 
next thing that took place ? Blood covered the spear ! Oh ! thank 
God, the blood covers sin. There was the blood covering that 
spear — the very point of it. The very crowning act of sin brought 
out the crowning act of love ; the crowning act of wickedness was 
the crowning act of grace. — Moody. 

The late venerable and godly Dr. Archibald Alexander, of 
Princeton, U. S., had been a preacher of Christ for sixty years, and 
a professor of divinity for forty. He died on the 2d of October, 
1851. On his death-bed he was heard to say to a friend, " All my 
theology is reduced to the narrow compass— Jesus Christ came 
into the world to save sinners." — Spur g eon. 



004) 



THE BLOTTING OUT OF TRANSGRESSIONS. 105 



IX. 

To my mind this is one of the sweetest texts in all the 
Bible. It is so far reaching, it is so deep, it is so high. 
As far out as sin may reach, as deep as the human heart, 
as far up as human iniquity has ever perched, our text 
most graciously extends. It meets the wants of the prince, 
It is quite sufficient for the pauper. It is the remedy for 
every age and it meets every condition. 

The blotting out of our transgressions, the hiding of 
our shame, the forgetting of our sins ! Oh, can there be 
any sweeter thought than this ? From the remotest past 
down the avenues of time men have been trying to dispose 
of their sins, have thought to get rid of them, to flee from 
them forever. Some how in every breast, civilized or bar- 
barian, learned or ignorant, there is a consciousness of 
sin. There is a restlessness, a sadness, something twitch- 
ing at the heart, a troubled soul for the past, an anxious 
thought for the future. Deep shadows fall in men's lives 
and they are afraid. They tremble at serious sickness, 
they are awe-stricken at impending danger. They draw 
back at the approach of death. Ah, they dare not face the 
future, nor plunge into that awful beyond. 

You see that poor son of toil as he plods along behind 
the polw yonder ; the sun is pouring upon him its blister- 
ing rays, his heart is so hot and restless, his frame is so 
weary. He stops now and mops his brow and sighs for the 
day when no longer he will take the plow handles, nor 
swelter in the sun, poor soul ! What brought him to all 
this ? It was sin. See the woman there, that poor scarlet 



106 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

woman with tlie back of every sister's hand to her, driven 
out from home, all virtue lost, all modesty gone, all hope 
buried, a once promising young life now all wrecked. Was 
it an accident, was it ill luck ? Was it fate ? No, no ; it was 
sin. See down there in starvation alley a poor widow with 
a broken heart. Her house is but a hut — the rain pours 
through the roof, the wind comes whistling through the 
rent boards, the floor is all open. The children stand about 
in rags. There is no meal in the barrel, no oil in the cruse, 
not a garment in the wardrobe. The fire on the hearth- 
stone has all died out. The children cry for bread and 
shiver in the cold, while the broken-hearted mother wrings 
her hands and mourns because she is unable to comfort her 
little ones. Thank God! there will be no starvation in 
heaven. What produces all these dire calamities ? Is it 
nature's laws ? Is it providence ? No. It is sin. 

It is sin that makes the gambler sit up all night and filch 
from his fellows that which makes him more of a wretch 
here and his damnation more sure hereafter. It is sin 
that fires the human heart, that lifts the hand that plunges 
the dagger into the victim's warm blood. It is sin that lays 
its infernal hands on some fair girl and smiles and prom- 
ises and lies — then blackens and blasts and damns and 
leads at last her poor soul to hell. It is sin that leads some 
mother's boy away from home and altar and heaven's door 
and bedaubs his name with infamy, and makes him a 
drunkard, a robber, a rake. Sin robs the hearts of its 
peace, drives sunshine out of the home, dries up laughter 
in the lips, makes widows and orphans, causes children to 
stand in abject dread, drags virtue in the streets, outrages 
all decency, wrests babes from their mother's arms, fills 



THE BLOTTING OUT OF TRANSGRESSIONS. 107 

murderers' graves, makes rosy cheeks blanch, breaks iron 
constitutions, stains the face with tears, snaps heartstrings, 
crushes out all hope, strikes clown every glimmering star, 
hushes sweet song into silence, makes the soul writhe in 
pain, the world stagger in darkness, and the home shriek 
with the despairing cries of hell. That is sin. 

A poor man working for fifty cents a day is trudging 
along in the dusty streets. His heart is stirred with bitter- 
ness, and with clinched fists and a scowl on his brow he 
mutters out an oath against the fair-faced, kid-glove capit- 
alist, while the capitalist in broad-cloth sitting proudly in 
his carriage, looks in disdain upon the son of toil, as his 
own fiery chargers dash past him. The poor man bitterly 
hates the rich man. The rich man values the poor man at 
what he can make out of him. Oh, this grinding, this ever- 
lasting grinding between the upper and nether millstone of 
life — this chasm between capital and labor. What makes it ? 
Sin. Alienation between brothers and sisters ? Sin. Un- 
kindness, cruelty, separation of husband and wife? Sin. 

But there comes at times a longing in the human heart 
for freedom. Such an overpowering — such a crushing 
weight into the life that one feels undone, miserable, lost, 
and so he begins to seek for a remedy. If he be a drunkard,, 
having often debauched his own manhood and outraged 
society and brought disgrace upon his family, he seeks by 
will power or tonics or better environments to leave off the 
accursed drink. Well, he succeeds, but has his soul been 
relieved ? The stains are still there. He is still unwashed. 
He may be fit for society and fit for home, but not fit for 
heaven. Sobriety is a beautiful virtue but it is not salva- 
tion from sin. The harlot may leave the shameless house 



108 st. pierre's raix of fire. 

and come into the respectable home and enjoy the confi- 
dence of all people, but is she not a sinner still \ A beauti- 
ful reformation, but she is still unwashed of His blood. 
Her burning need is the blotting out of her transgressions. 
Men from one incentive or another some time leave off 
and rise above these practices, that undermine the body 
or impair the mind or outrage society, and when such reek- 
ing sins have been lopped off how comfortable they feel. 
Ah, how foul, how putrid still. Sin has soaked through. 
The stains are black. The soul is yet untouched of Calvary. 
Leaving off is not blotting out. Reforming is not repent- 
ing. Reforming from outward commissions does not move 
the inward corruption. 

Sin is like the heavy winter rain, it goes deep. It is like 
indelible ink, it does not come out with a common wash- 
ing. Xo ordinary means can remove it, When I was a 
small boy living on the farm, my father bought me a beau- 
tiful coat one day. How happy I was, for store-bought 
coats didn't come often. I put it on and strutted around 
like a prince. But alas ! my joy was soon turned into sor- 
row. My heart broke when 1 spilt some grease on one of 
the lappels ; my new coat was spoiled so soon. What must 
I do ? Well, I washed the spot with soap and water and 
sponged it. I even scraped, it with my knife. 

I called in all the doctors on grease and after many pre- 
scriptions and patient nursing I thought the patient was 
cured. The coat looked so fresh again and I was so happy. 
In my boyish glee I jumped up and down and ran out in 
the yard and road. After being long at play the sun 
poured upon the lame spot on my coat and the dust settled 
there, and would you believe it, that old grease spot looked 



THE BLOTTINGT OUT OF TRANSGRESSIONS. 109' 

twice as big as it ever was. So it is with the sinner. He 
is very proud of his reputation — thinks well of his moral 
coat and tries hard to keep it clean. In his own strength 
he is trying to remove the stain and rub out the sin and 
extirpate the gangreen that lies deep in the soul. Some- 
times he is much pleased at his progress, but the Spirit 
appeals to his heart, and his conscience is aroused. He 
realizes at last his helpless, lost condition and looks to 
Jesus. Friends, you may be good legislators, but you can 
not enact laws that will govern or outlaw or silence sin, 
nor can you repeal the law: "The soul that sinneth, it 
shall die/' You may be a good physician, but you have 
no cathartic in all your pharmacopeia to drive sin out of 
the system, nor any anisthetic to put to sleep forever. You 
may be philosophers, ever so wise, but you can have no 
learning so lofty, nor witchery sufficient to charm away sin. 
Like Banquo's ghost, it will not down at your bidding. 

Prayers cannot breathe sins away. Penance cannot 
atone. Your own blood cannot cover them. Your tears 
cannot wash them away. 

. "What can w^ash away your sins ? 
Xothing but the blood of Jesus. " 

Oh, the text is so comforting — it is like a song in the 
night. It is light springing out of darkness. "I, even I, 
am He that blotteth out thy transgressions." 

Years ago I stood on the Cumberland Beach watching 
old ocean as the angry waves roiled high upon each other, 
breaking into myriad sprays. They looked like dazzling; 
white spires pointing heavenward. 



110 st. Pierre's rain of fire. 

I stooped clown and wrote my name in the pebbly beach 
and stood back and watched the tide as it rolled majestic- 
ally in. The tide then went out slowly, grandly. I looked 
for my name, but it was gone. How like the blood of 
Jesus. I looked once and saw my poor soul all blackened 
by sin and gashed by the deep furrow of Satan. Damna- 
tion was written all over me and I felt my feet slipping 
away into hell. I looked up and cried for deliverance. I 
looked again. Where were the wounds, all the black 
gashes of sin ? Why, the crimson tide of Calvary had 
rolled in over my soul and they were gone. They had been 
blotted out. 

Have you sins to-night ? Are they black and ugly ? Do 
they threaten to destroy your happiness forever and to 
land you in hell at last ? Then come, poor soul, to Calvary 
and Jesus with His pierced hands will run over thy ac- 
count, let it be ever so large, let thy crimes be ever so 
black. The ledger shall be clear when His blood covers 
thy guilt, for all thy transgressions shall be blotted out. 

WHX THEY ALL BE COVERED. 

Kever fear, Jesus does not do things by halves. Listen 
to the Psalmist: "Purge me with hysop and I shall be 
clean, wash me and I shall be whiter than snow." Again 
God's pleading with the sinner: "Come, let us reason to- 
gether, though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white 
as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be 
as wool." God tells us that our sins are nailed to the 
tree and cast from us as far as the East from the West. 
Again He declares "the blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, 
cleanseth us from all sin." God is almighty and He is all 



THE BLOTTING OUT OF TRANSGRESSIONS. Ill 

willing. He is also all righteous. Can such a God as that 
allow one single sin to come into His presence ? Xo, no, 
no ; let it be ever so small and it would make heaven un- 
heavenly and turn bliss into grief. 

The Holy Spirit was doing a most gracious work in I)r. 
Mauley's school in South Carolina. Many of the students 
were being saved. A bright little girl came running to 
the Doctor, saying: "Dr. I\Ianley, God has forgiven some 
of my sins/' and seemed quite happy. At this Dr. Manley 
showed his disappointment and said, "Xo, no, my child, 
God doesn't do His work that way. He has either forgiven 
all your sins or He hasn't forgiven any." The child was 
grieved, and went away pouting, but it was an arrow sent 
to her heart. It drove her to her knees. The next morn- 
ing she came again, her face this time all radiant with joy. 
She cried out: "Dr. ]\Ianley, what yon said yesterday was 
true. God had not forgiven any of my sins, but I am so 
happy now, for they are all gone." But some one is trem- 
bling, doubting lest your sins be too black, too many. Xot 
so, my friend, for though your sins go as deep as hell or 
pierce the stars, or multiply like the sands of the seashore, 
yet His blood can cover them all — His blessed hands can 
blot them all out. Only believe, only believe, 

BUT WILL THEY STAY BLOTTED OUT. 

This is a question that is troubling many a poor soul. 
One exclaims : "I know the good God can blot out all my 
sins. I know He is willing, but when I blunder again, and 
when I fall what will become of me then — will Jesus' blood 
cover my sins always ? Did He not die on the cross once 
for all ? Can he offer Himself a second time ? TVould he 
not be less than Savior to die again?" 



112 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

Hear Him as He cries out in the tenth chapter of Joiin : 
"And I give unto them eternal life, and they shall never 
perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand." 
Listen to the rapturous words of Paul as he closes the mem- 
orable eighth chapter of Romans : "For I am persuaded 
that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, 
nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor 
height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to 
separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus, 
our Lord.'' Oh, we are "justified by His blood. 77 We have 
"redemption through His blood." It is called "precious 
blood." Why ? Because it saves perfectly — saves for 
eternitv. If the blood covers vour sins, nor man nor de- 
mons nor angels can find them again. Thank God, they 
are gone forever ! The blood of the cross makes a perfect 
covering, for it covers completely and it never wears out. 
We cover our sins, but they are soon exposed. Xo covering 
we can make can hide our guilt from the eye and the wrath 
of the Almighty. 

A little boy listening to a lecture on the Omnipotence of 
God said: "I know one thing God can't do." "What is 
that ~C was asked. "'God can't see my sins through Jesus' 
blood." That He can't Blessed thought ! Then bring 
your poor soul under the crimson hand of Jesus and have 
all your sins blotted out. 

FOR WHOSE SAKE, 

God loved Israel, but it was not for Israel's sake. He 
loved, and still loves the sinner, but it is not for the sin- 
ner's sake that He saves. Yes, He loves the world. "God 
so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, 



THE BLOTTING OUT OF TRANSGRESSIONS. 113 

that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish but 
have everlasting life." Again He commands us to go into 
all the world and preach the gospel to every creature. Yes, 
He loves us and saves, blots out our transgressions, not for 
our own sake, but "mine own sake," He emphatically de- 
clares. 

Study our text in connection with Ezekiel xxxvi:21, 
22, and think more on the glory of God and the majesty of 
His name. 

THE FORGETFULNESS OF GOD. » 

God says: "And I will not remember thy sins." Then 
He must have forgotten them, since he once knew them. 
O, the blessed forgetfulness of God. How sweet, how un- 
speakably glorious to have our sins not only blotted out, but 
absolutely forgotten. What if man does remember our 
sins, God forgets them, that is enough. I remember my 
sins. I can say with David : "My sins are ever before me." 
I reckon it is well that it is so, for to remember our sins 
is to remember His blood. Such memory keeps us penitent, 
and humble, and drives us to the cross. Oh, it makes us 
tender and gives us an infinite longing to be like Christ, to 
be with Him. 

How often have I wished from my heart that I might 
flee from the memory of sins. I remember the sins of my - 
youth and of other days. How T black they are In my sight. 
They once made the sweat-drops stand on my brow and 
temple, and the veins strut in my neck. I see them now. I 
try to shut my eyes to them. They stare at me. I tremble at 
the very thought. I can never forgive myself for those old- 
time sins, much less forget; but they are forgiven and for- 



114 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

gotten of a merciful Lord. I can imagine a scene at the 
Judgment, A most vile sinner washed in the blood stands 
trembling before all nations and says : " Judge, don't you 
remember how in yonder world I did crimes black as 
night; how. I disgraced home and outraged all decency; 
Judge, don't you remember?" And the blessed Jesus, 
looking in infinite pity upon the poor soul, says : "No, no ; 
I've forgotten all about it." A husband who, in time, had 
been a very terror to his home now steps up and says: 
"Judge, don't you remember how faithless I was, and how 
cruel ; how I beat my poor little wife till she trembled and 
bled before my brutish face ?" "No>, my son, I remember 
no wrong against you. The past is all dead." Another 
steps up, a mother this time : "Judge, I can never get over 
it, my heart hurts me so. Don't you remember how, in 
my unholy passion, I struck my little one down and sent 
him to bed unwept, unkissed, unhugged, unloved? You 
remember how he cried and sobbed and begged me to 
kiss him. Then the fever set in and soon we laid him in 
his grave, and then my heart broke. Judge, don't you re- 
member ?" 

The Savior looked with more than usual compassion 
upon his blood-washed child and says: "I know nothing of 
it, I've forgotten all." 

And all the blood-washed throng files into his presence 
and stands before the judgment seat. In vain does each 
soul strive to call to the Judge's remembrance the crimes 
and sins of these unhappy days, but He simply smiles, say- 
ing, "I've forgotten all there is against you." 

But He opens the great book of remembrance now be- 
fore Him and says all your good deeds are recorded here. 



THE BLOTTING OUT OF TRANSGRESSIONS. 115 

I see where you gave a cup of cold water to a disciple, and 

where you fed a poor widow, and where you clothed an or- 
phan, and where you entertained a stranger, and where you 
visited the sick, and where you wiped away the scalding 
tear. Oh, I remember all your sacrifices and sufferings for 
my sake. Pass through ; pass through the gates of pearl. 
May it be so with all who hear me to-night. 



The Lord's Shut-Ins. 



And the Lord shut Hfm in. — Gen. 7 : 16. 

Nothing is intolerable that is necessary. Now God hath bound 
thy trouble upon thee with a design to try thee, and with pur- 
poses to reward and crown thee. 

These cords thou canst not break ; and therefore lie thou down 
gently, and suffer the hand of God to do what he please. — 
Jeremy Taylor. 

All my life I still have found, 

And I will forget it never, 
Every sorrow hath its bound, 

And no cross endures forever. 
All things else have but their day, 

Gcd's love only lasts for aye. 

— P. GerhardL 



(116) 



THE LOItf/s SHUT-INS. 117 



X. 



We shall have to deal with the flood and the providence 
of God this morning. And strange enough, there are 
many traditions of the deluge. Many nations and tongues 
and tribes, and those too, who were godless and heathen 
have had their own peculiar notions and accounts of the 
flood. They are all interesting, but erroneous, for they 
differ from the simple Bible story. Wonderful that these 
people who are without the truth, who knew not our God, 
who lived in the twilight of the ages, should be thinking 
and dreaming of the flood. Was it a happen so ? Was it a 
coincident ? Was it a kind of providential opening of 
God's strange thoughts and actions in those far-off days ? 
We know not, we can not understand. Some things are 
inexplicable. But the Spirit has moved upon the face of 
the deep and the nation's mental and spiritual darkness 
has been penetrated here and there by the kindly glintings 
of God's awakening providences, and through them men 
have looked up and seen the Infinite. 

But what of the flood that swept the people and beasts 
and fowls and all creeping things from the face of the 
earth ? Why this miserable wreckage ? Why this awful 
breaking up of the depths ? Why this terrible battling 
against the black waters ? Why these moans and lamenta- 
tions from the dying? Hear the wild heart-shrieks of 
mothers as they cling convulsively to their little ones, llear 
the helpless children as their piteous cries mingle with the 
breaking billows. See the men, once strong and brave and 
defiant, and infidelic and agnostic, and blasphemous, now 



118 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

pale and frantic and helpless and crying for mercy. Why 
this wild and unparallel disaster ? this sharpest and most 
collosal exhibition of God Almighty's wrath ? It was sin. 
The great God was outraged by the wickedness of the peo- 
ple. His patience and His long suffering were infinite, but 
unbelief and crime provoked Him at last, and then, with 
His fury, He swept the wicked from off the face of the 
earth. Even now, God is bearing patiently with the wicked, 
but their crimes are piling up, and sooner or later, with 
terrific force, will come crashing upon their heads. 

But at that early day God had a people, and in His own 
time, and by His own methods, He showed His wondrous 
mercy to eight persons : Noah and his wif e, his three sons 
and their wives, and two male and female of every kind of 
beast and bird and fish and creeping thing on the earth, and 
saved them from the flood. 

What was the plan ? Noah, the marvelous architect and 
builder, built an ark after the divine pattern of Gopher 
wood, three hundred feet long, fifty feet wide, thirty feet 
high, and pitched it with pitch inside and out. The ^rk 
was three stories high with one door and one window. Beau- 
tiful type of Christ. The ark was strong enough to with- 
stand the shock of the deluge — so Christ withstands, and 
ever shall withstand the rage of men and devils. The ark 
was pitched with pitch inside and out, and kept out the 
waters and weathered the storm and sailed in safety to Mt. 
Ararat. So Christ faced His enemies with the finest pas- 
sion of His soul-love. His blood was the beautiful cement 
that made safe and comfortable the ark of our souls. He 
faces the very storms of hell, and will bear us safely over 
every billow and in triumph land us home. 



119 

The ark was three hundred feet long, fifty feet wide and 
thirty feet high, three stories high. So in Christ there is 
ample room for every man that will enter for salvation. 
Thank God ! In Him no poor soul shall seek safety from 
flood or flame and sink in despair. 

There was a window to the ark. We know not the uses 
of windows unless they are to let in sunshine and air and 
views of God's matchless landscapes and paintings of earth, 
sea and sky. So in Christ we find our spiritual window, 
which lets the sunshine of God's everlasting love and the 
soft breezes which sweep from the shining heights of glory 
and scenes of indescribable loveliness — the purling water 
of paradise and visions of angels and waving trees along 
the emerald bank, and glittering chariots and streets of 
gold, and ivory thrones and scepters of power and crown of 
unrivaled luster, and life crowned with honor and glory 
and shot through and through with the quivering shafts of 
peace. 

Then there was the door to the ark — and the door was 
on the side. What blessings and what comforts there are in 
doors — doors that are well-made and properly adjusted, 
that op^en and shut for the safety and convenience of the 
occupant. What a miserable failure Noah's ark would 
have been without a door ? All its strength and capacious- 
ness and beauty and splendid appointments would have 
been practically useless had there been no door. The door 
admitted the occupants into the ark and shut out the flood 
and the driving rain and the cutting blast and the enemies 
of God and a waterv grave. So we have our door in Christ. 
Christ is the door; there is no other. Into His side the 
Roman steel entered, and on his brow a cruel crown of 



120 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

thorns was pressed, while through his quivering hands and 
feet the deadly spikes were driven. It was a great day 
when the fountain opened up in the house of David. On 
Calvary, mid darkness and groans and rending of rocks 
and shouts and derision, the door of hope, the door of life, 
and the door of heaven was opened. 

By faith we enter and by His mercy, His unspeakable 
grace, He shuts us in from ruin, shuts us in from hell, 
shuts us in now, shuts us in forever. Thank God for the 
door — the open door that admits all His people. 

"And the Lord shut him in.' 7 Noah did not shut him- 
self in. He was under the guidance of God, was follow- 
ing the lead of the Divine Spirit ; was clay in the potter's 
hands. The Supreme Architect gave him the pattern. 
The work was done and the grand old boat was ready to be 
launched, but there was no command to shut the door. 
Noah was righteous and wise and skillful, but evidently he 
knew not how to close the door. 

Well, if Noah was ignorant of this art, or was not per- 
mitted to do so noble and so gracious a service, surely no 
member of his family might be so honored. 

Nor did the angels "shut him in." The angels are the 
servants of man as well as the servants of God. And not 
only do they serve us here, but will serve us in heaven, and 
it will be a perfect service, for they are full of heavenly 
knowledge and power and grace. Their service here and 
now is wonderful and gracious. I know not how we 
would dispense with it, even in this life. 

Methinks it would have been a delightful task for them 
to shut in this antediluvian family, but whether they had 
the power or knowledge to perform this wonderful min- 



THE LORD'S SHUT INS. 121 

istry, Gocl in His wisdom did not see fit to commit this 
task into their hands. 

The devils didn't shut him in. I do not believe they 
could have shut him in, but granting their power they 
would certainly never have done so strange a thing. It is 
unlike a devil to do a sweet service. There is no goodness 
and no mercy in his life. He is bent on destruction. His 
everlasting mission is to destroy and to damn. To shut 
Xoah in means to save him. Hell never purposed salva- 
tion. Damnation alone is her glory. Xo, the devils never 
shut in. 

"And the Lord shut him in." 

How comforting, how refreshing in a weary land to 
know the Lord is leading us, and His own hand is saving 
us. 

Lor man or angel or devil to have shut Xoah in would 
have destroyed the force ^nd beauty of the figure, would 
have made the symbol meaningless. The ark prefigures 
better things to come, speaks eloquently of a better life and 
a brighter morning. Through the ark we catch visions of 
a far brighter ship, a ship all crimson with His blood and 
resplendant with the whiteness of salvation and peace. 

The ark, the ark ; what a fine type of Jesus the Savior, 
our spiritual ark, the one that saves from the deluge of 
God's wrath and the black waters of death. 

Only God could have shut in the eight persons from the 
depths; then, not another than the Infinite could devise 
and execute our deliverance. In Him the rising tide can 
never reach the soul. Storms may howl and billows dash 
and demons rage, yet we shall sail on to greater than Ararat 
heights, anchor at last in the everlasting haven, oiii* 
heavenly home. 



122 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

I want to speak now on the providences of God. And I 
want to say right here that I do not believe, as some believe, 
to wit : that God made His laws and set all things animate 
and inanimate a going, and took no further notice of them ; 
had no care for His creatures. Does He not note the spar- 
row's fall ? Does He not count the hairs on our heads ? 
Does He not care for His own ? Law, or no law, is He not 
pledged to provide for the elect ? Certainly w T e have script- 
ures for this position. He who made law is surely greater 
than law — can change law — can hold law in abeyance. He 
can do this or He is not God. Did He not overcome the 
law when Peter and his Savior walked upon the water ? 
Where was law when frogs and vermin and hail of fire 
and water-courses of blood were playing havoc with Egypt ? 
Where was law when, by the rod of Moses, the Mighty One 
made the Red Sea stand apart like brazen columns ? When 
the winds were blowing gales from the east and the skies 
were raining down light-bread and the flinty stones were 
pouring forth great streams of limpid waters, was not law 
set aside ? I would not belittle the laws — the grand laws 
of God. They are His and what he made is good, but let 
us know He can overrule and override and tear down and 
set aside as well as build up and strengthen. He is God 
— Omnipotent; grass grows according to natural law^. 
If I put my hand in the fire I suffer. If a child falls 
into the waters above its head it drowns. And yet God 
can take the vitality out of the grass and the heat out of th« 
flame and death out of the waters. 

God shuts us in by sickness. 

Some say God permits sickness and afflictions to come 
upon us. Well, that is true. For is it not in His power 



the lord's SHUT-ITsS. 123 

to prevent it ? For He has power over the body as He 
has over the soul. He is the master of nature as well as 
the master of divinity. Certainly He permits diseases 
or they never would come. But is there anything espe- 
cially comforting in this thought ? God permits sin and yet 
what sinner rejoices over the fact? My brother, it does 
not throw you into ecstacies to contemplate this strange 
doctrine. You rejoice but not in the existence of the evil 
— rather over your deliverance from the evil. 

Is there not Bible doctrine to the, effect that He afflicts 
His children? Did He not give His own Son into the 
hands of the enemy ? Did He not deliver Job into the 
hands of the devil and of his tormentors ? Did He not fre- 
quently afflict, even fight against the children of Israel? 
Yes, all along down the ages God has been marking His 
people with afflictions. 

Paul begged for the removal of the thorn from his side, 
but we have no account of the lifting of this affliction. 
God shut him in. Poor Robert Hall was shut in by a 
tired body, was shut in by fatigue and pain. He used 
often to cry for that everlasting rest. Spurgeon was a 
great sufferer. For weeks at a time he was shut in by 
sickness. 

Poor Edward Payson was shut in by a stitch in his side 
— suffered agonies, and often with his hand clutching at 
his aching body he would lean over and weep out his ser- 
mons to melting congregations. 

The knightly Coats was not infrequently shut in by 
splitting headaches and other physical infirmities, but God 
used him mightily in the extension of His kingdom. 

The eloquent Edge, one of the finest pulpit orators in 



124 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

this country, ofttimes in his weakness, dragged himself up 
into his pulpit and sometimes could scarcely finish hi^ 
discourse on acount of fits of coughing, but so powerful 
was his burning oratory that he would at times lift his 
great audience to their feet. He was shut in by bronchitis ; 
shut in by pain ; yea, the Lord shut him in. 

Many a fine saint is shut in with incurable maladies and 
bodily weaknesses. There is the poor old mother, all bent 
with rheumatism, no longer able to attend the sanctuary. 
There is the poor fellow that's blind. Day and night 
are all alike to him. Can not see any more the face of 
his loved ones ; nor flower, nor bird, nor stream, nor star. 
Then there are the deaf, on whose ears never break the 
laughter of childhood nor the sweet-toned orchestra, nor 
hymns of praises. Shut up to the unbroken, the everlast- 
ing silence of earth. And the cripple and the halt and the 
maimed and the fever-tossed and the bed-ridden. The dear 
ffirl with wasted limb and sunken chest and aching* side, 
as she lives propped up in bed, looks wearily out into the 
yard or streets, and sees the children at play, but alas, 
she is shut in for days, for weeks, for months. 

The hunchback is ostracised. The boys will not play 
with him. He is shut in. The poor lad lies on his back 
and cries out day and night with his white swelling. Pains 
almost like the pains of hell seize him and his very bones 
work out of his flesh. He is shut in. 

God does not afflict His people aimlessly — to no pur- 
pose. He takes no pleasure in their sicknesses and suffer- 
ings. If He lays His hand heavily upon His child, it is 
that He might bring him nearer to Himself. If He puts 
us on crutches— if He knocks our props from beneath us 



THE LORD'S SHUT INS. 125* 

and stretches us on beds of fever ; if He presses a crown 
of thorns upon our temples, or pierces our sides with the 
cold steel ; if He shuts us off from the sunshine of the world 
and from much of the sweet fellowship here below. Oh,, 
if He shuts the door and bars out the ringing laughter of 
innocence and cuts off the view of the skies, and makes this 
old world a prison home, Pie is only preparing us for a 
better life ; getting us ready for the home journey, ^sly 
friends, if God makes for you this world a dungeon, it 
is only that He might lift your eyes toward your palace 
home. If He burns you with fever, if He goads you with 
pain, if He lays you out with some long distressing sick- 
ness, it is that He would fan your cheek some day with 
the breath that blows from off the Immortal Hill and give 
you for every darting pain a thrill of paradisial peace,, 
and create on your sick bed a longing for the skies and 
that rosy health which flushes the face of every citizen 
of the City of God. 

Spurgeon says: "Sickness is the best thing in the 
world." Possibly nothing so humbles the pride of a soul 
as affliction. It quite takes the starch out of a fellow and 
shows him his weakness and his helplessness. It enables- 
him to look up and away from himself. On his back the 
poor sufferer may see more mercies dripping from the 
finger tips of Providence than ever he discerned on his 
feet. Afflictions are like the wine press ; they get the best 
out of us. They fit us better for service. They make us 
more tender and sweet. 

Thank God for the shut-ins, for thou, dear Lord, doth 
go in Thyself, and they find more heaven in the dark and 
alone than they ever found in the glare of day and in the- 



126 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

surging crowds. Some weeks ago God's hand fell upon 
roe, and for many days I was shut in with the most ex- 
cruciating pains. It seemed that every bone in my left 
arm and shoulder would break, and at times I would cry 
out in agony— what does all this mean ? It means I have 
learned a new lesson for life and brought up a fresh pearl 
from the depths. Through the refining process of suff er- 
ing I have been lifted nearer to God^ and I am happier 
than I have been for many a day. It has given me a mel- 
lowness I never knew before — enlarged my sympathies, 
strengthened my faith and my love for you, my people, 
stirs with an unusual intensity. I bless God for sickness, 
for its a means of grace, and one supremely precious, 
thought, when He shuts His people in He does not shut 
Himself out. 

I know a man to-day in the State of Georgia, shut in 
by inflammatory rheumatism. For many years he was a 
frequenter of the saloon, and doing many things displeas- 
ing to the Master — dishonoring the Lord and doing vio- 
lence to his church obligations, but the Lord shut him in, 
and now he is so gentle and his heart is so tender and 
heaven is dearer. Oh, the uplifting power of affliction ! 

SHUT HST BY BUSINESS REVERSES. 

God is not shut up to means of grace. He can not be 
bound, nor circumscribed. If He can bring back a prodigal 
by affliction or polish a spiritual stone by the refining 
process of suffering, He can just as easily break the human 
heart or subdue the untamed spirit by taking away his 
property. His providences are wonderful, and the methods 
He adopts in securing the affections and services of His 



the lord's shut-ins. 127 

children are multitudinous. If the father reaches not the 
child with kindness He brings him round with the rod. 
If the soft sunshine of heaven entice not the feet of the 
wayward, then with the storm of divine purpose He drives 
him to the path of mercy and peace. Many thousands are 
shut in to-day by poverty. Riches do not often point men 
to Jesus ; they have brought more thorns than roses, more 
curses than blessings. 

In the hands of many men property has shrunken — just 
melted like snow in the sun. What's the matter? Good 
morals, good judgment, good environments, and yet the 
poor fellow goes to the wall. Who knows but that God saw 
in his riches the snare to his soul, and the bar to his 
spiritual power? Our losses are ofttimes wings to our 
souls, while our profits may prove our millstones. My 
friends, are you greatly reduced ? Do you find it hard 
to make buckle and tongue meet? If you have made an 
honest, faithful effort, chide not yourself. It is God shut- 
ting you in. So do not worry, nor fret ; these are simply 
your school days, and after your fine discipline you shall 
go out into a larger service and enjoy a sweeter fellowship 
with the Master and the saints than you had ever dreamed 
of. 

A short time ago there was a shortage in one of the 
banks. Suspicions arose and the suspect fled across the 
seas. Just a few days ago he was brought back by the 
officers of the law, and is now awaiting trial on the charge 
of embezzlement. His tether was too long. Young man, 
murmur not if God should shorten yours. It is a mark 
of His affection. If He should shut you in He would 
keep you from evil. He would reserve better things for 
you. 



128 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

A poor, miserly wretch says when lie comes to die, "I 
am worth a hundred thousand dollars," and clutching his 
immense wealth he sinks down to infinite depths of pau- 
perism. That was all he was worth — just $100,000. 
Gained that and flung away his soul — lost heaven. When 
riches fail, when business reverses come, when poverty 
stalks into your home, rejoice and praise God, for to be 
shut in with Him means more than all liberty with the 
devil. 

SHUT IX BY HOME TRIALS.- 

Possibly nothing so influences character as life at home. 
Home influence touches us at every angle — make impres- 
sions here that last for eternity. 

God ofttimes makes the home the best by hard 
and cutting experiences; envelopes it in the darkest 
clouds, even baptizes it in blood and tears. Home 
is never so gracious nor like heaven as when visited 
by some tearful sorrow. To be shut in with some invalid 
child, or your poor decrepit mother, or some pale-faced 
sufferer, or your own precious dear — then to be shut in 
with your loss and your sacred grief it would seem the 
very taunting of divinity, the cruelty of heaven. The worid 
pities, but the angels are ready to strike their harps. 
Hearts may be making merry in the house of feasting, but 
your home of mourning may prove, as has been the case,, 
the very ante-chamber to glory. One of the sweetest gos- 
pel preachers that ever told the old, old story, known over 
the South as the John of his denomination, has had his 
heart strings torn — has drank his cup of wormwood and 
gall. Few men have tasted such bitterness. He has had 



the lord's shut-ins. 129 

iii the deepest sense his Gethsemane and he has known his 
Calvary. Calamity after calamity has come into his home, 
afflictions have trodden upon him with cruel heels, and 
tragic death has more than once cut off his children. Shut 
in so long and so deep^ but like the grape in the press, the 
sweetest cordial comes from his broken life, and as the 
crushed rose emits it fragrance on the air, so his troubles 
have sanctified his ministry and made him a sweet bene- 
diction to the people. Shut in ; who would rebel at the 
dungeon, who would mind sorrow, who would tremble or 
curse at death, if by these means one should find a closer 
fellowship with the good and have heaven to bloom prac- 
tically in his heart ? When Dias was shut in the Morro 
Castle for preaching the gospel on the streets of Havana, 
he said the Lord Jesus was shut in with him and he was 
so happy. 

To be shut in with God means the devil shut out. The 
Lord knows best. The severest discipline here must mean 
the finest triumph and the keenest joy up yonder. 

One last word, my friends : All yonr liberty and pos- 
sessions and joy here will avail you nothing, if at last you 
shall be among the "Shut-outs" at the pearly gates. Oh, 
let the Lord's shut-ins rejoice and shout for gladness. He 
is keeping them from disgrace, shutting them from the 
tempter's snare. Young man, He would keep your band 
out of your employer's pocket and keep your poor soul 
from shipwreck. Then enter in the open door. Christ is the 
ark. Never did anv ship so successfully ply the black 
waters as the ship of Zion. The rudder and the stern are 
strong, the deck is spacious, and a berth is ready for every 
voyager. The sails are all unfurled, and the chart and 



130 st. pierre's rain of fire. 

compass complete, and the pilot at his post. No one was 
ever lost who entered this ship. There can be no ship- 
wreck with the captain of our salvation at the helm. 
Then get on board, for the night shades are gathering and 
the clouds are lowering and the storm is brewing. The old 
sea is being lashed into fury. Embark, embark now. 
Strike for the hill country — the land of myrrh and spices- 
This country is filled with pitfalls and death. It is not 
your home. Oh, look to Jesus — He died to save you. 
There is a fountain opened up in His side. Plunge in. 
Don't wait too long. Come now. Shut in from sin and 
sorrow, temptation and sickness and death and hell — shut 
in with God and loved ones — shut in heaven^^shut in for- 
ever. 



MOV 8 7 1903 



CD 






